


Like the Devil's Got Your Hand

by AngstandPizzaRolls



Series: Sixteen Hundred and Eighty Seven [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Colonial America, Friends to Lovers, Infidelity, Inspired by The Crucible, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Magic, No pizzarolls, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Post-Magic Reveal, Religion, Religious Fanaticism, Salem Witch Trials AU, This is what happens when I take an american history class, Witch Hunt, all angst, hints of Period typical sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:30:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 66,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7003027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngstandPizzaRolls/pseuds/AngstandPizzaRolls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camelot, Massachusetts Bay Colony 1687 </p><p>Maybe Merlin's evil, a demon sent straight from the devil himself to tempt Arthur or maybe he's just a good man cursed with magic. Arthur's not sure but against better judgement he knows he has to keep his best friend's magic a secret, even when the witch trials begin. </p><p>When the small town of Camelot, is attacked by witches in their midst, the god-fearing people demand justice, but the price of that justice is payed in innocent blood as the accusations of witchcraft spiral out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The views expressed by any characters in this story are meant to reflect the time period and have no bearing on my own beliefs. Because this story takes place in a colony of Puritans, there is a lot of talk of God, Hell, and Morality. No offense is intended to anyone Christian or non-Christian. I have no agenda to convert anyone or make a satire of it.
> 
> (Majorly liberties were taken with historical accuracy)

They had been walking for hours-trudging more like it-searching the woods for any sign of the ten men who were declared missing three days ago. The only thing that kept him going was the small hope that they were still alive. As much as he hated to admit it, Merlin was almost ready to give it up as a lost cause. He’d volunteered to be part of the search party but that was mostly to spite Arthur’s disbelieving brow raise at the suggestion that Merlin would be brave enough to go along. And partially to see that mouth twisting in subtle appreciation for the much needed and stoically unsought-after help. 

Merlin’s bravery wasn’t being tested at the moment though. These woods were riddled with beasts and savages alike ready to tear them apart, but rather than testing his courage, following Arthur around the woods was testing his patience. He and Arthur, along with Gwaine, Percival, and Leon had left Camelot yesterday morning and now the sun had long since dipped below the horizon. They had yet to find any hint of the band of hunters they were looking for and Merlin was really not looking forward to spending another night out here. 

Winter was creeping up on them with all the stealth of a raging elephant, making their breath frost in the air before them. Merlin’s threadbare jacket did little to ward off the cold, and he wondered even if the hunters hadn’t been killed by some predator how they possibly managed to survive the exposure of the early November night in the wilderness on the frontier of Massachusetts.

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Honestly Merlin, if you are that afraid of the dark you should not have volunteered.” Arthur called over his shoulder from his place at the front of the pack of them. 

“I’m not scared!” Merlin squawked, wrapping his arms a little more tightly around himself. “God knows you brutes could bash in the brains of anything that comes close. I’m just cold.” 

He saw Arthur straighten at his words, his shoulders swelling a little and he knew without seeing Arthur’s face that he had that annoying smirk on his face. “That wasn’t a compliment.” Merlin grumbled. 

“Sure it was.” Gwaine said grinning, and tossed his arm around Merlin’s shoulders. As much as his bad mood wanted him to shrug away from Gwaine, the warmth coming off him made Merlin move in a little closer.

“You’re like ice.” Gwaine commented, pulling him in tightly so he fit against his body as they walked. 

Arthur looked back at them then, and his jaw clench almost as tightly as his fists. “We should stop for the night. Set up camp and get a fire going.” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying for the last half hour.” Merlin attempted a chiding tone but his sweeping relief ruined the effect. 

They had a fire going in minutes, and Merlin was nearly sitting inside of it trying to drag whatever vestiges of warmth he could back into his skin. He looked around for the friend who’d made a very good blanket just a few minutes ago, but Gwaine was already passed out in his bed roll sleeping easily despite the cold. Percival was quick to turn in as well after Merlin dished out the sparing dinner of bread and a few slices of meat. 

He could hear Arthur and Leon speaking lowly across the fire, but he didn’t bother listening. After a few minutes, Leon crawled into his bedroll and began to snore lowly. They had most likely been discussing the best way to find the missing men, the same conversation they’d been having for several days now that never seemed to go anywhere. They all knew that the longer they went without finding anything, the slimmer the chances of survival became but no one wanted to say it. Merlin glanced up and found Arthur’s eyes staring into the dark, somewhere to Merlin’s left. 

“We will find them.” Merlin insisted, trying to make his voice strong even if his words were flimsy.

A quick rush of air from his nose was Arthur’s only reply. 

He looked tired. More than just the dark smudges beneath his eyes. Merlin could see the invisible weight on Arthur’s whole body. His shoulders drooping like it was just too much effort to hold them up anymore. He wanted to say something encouraging, something that could return the hope to his eyes that had been there a few days ago. But what could he say? He knew what Arthur was thinking. That he’d been the one to order the men into the woods and to their now almost certain death. Merlin knew Arthur well enough to know that nothing he said would make that guilt go away.

“Stop thinking so loud. You’ll hurt yourself.” Arthur offered to break the long silence. 

“I could sing instead if you’d like.” Merlin teased. “I’ve been told I’m quite talented.”

“If God is merciful, He’ll spare us all that torment.”

Merlin reached out to smack Arthur’s arm, but the sudden rush of cold air under his blanket had him huddling back into a miserable ball of shivers before he could manage it.

“Are you really that cold?” Arthur asked, most of the teasing had faded from his voice. 

Merlin just nodded, trying not to take off his own tongue with his chattering teeth. Arthur watched him for a moment before pushing to his feet and coming to stand beside him. The weight of a well made coat settled on his shoulders and Merlin glanced up to watch Arthur unwind the scarf from around his neck. 

“What are you-” He was caught off guard, though he really should’ve expected it given the circumstances, when Arthur tied the scarf around his neck. Merlin watched him, still gaping, as he placed a few more broken-up branches on the fire and settled into his bedroll without another word. 

Well it was too late to argue with him now. Merlin abandoned his now solitary place beside the fire in favor of his bedroll which was situated somewhere between Percival and Leon. 

Falling asleep did not come easily, especially with the smell of Arthur permeating the space around him. The warmth of the coat, the softness of the scarf where it brushed against his cheek, all lent to the distracting mental image of Arthur draping himself over Merlin instead of the coat. 

He wasn’t sure why the small show of thoughtfulness had surprised him so much. It wasn’t as if it was out of character for Arthur. He’d known the man for nearly a year, ever since he came to Camelot after making the treacherous journey from Ealdor across the atlantic alone. They’d met that very first day, and Arthur had proven almost immediately just how big of a prat he could be. It hadn’t taken him long to be won over though. There really wasn’t any hope for him anyway because Arthur was actually rather thoughtful and kind to others when he didn’t open his mouth. And sometimes when he did…

When he wasn’t teasing Merlin, then. No, because even then, Merlin could pick out the hints of a smile and the thinly veiled fondness.

He didn’t know where this line of thought was going. Nowhere good. Anytime he started praising Arthur, even in his mind, it was a warning sign of serious sleep deprivation and the first marker of the mental affliction Gaius alway accused him of being ailed with. 

With a big huff of air, Merlin readjusted and tried to get comfortable. He was actually starting to fall asleep when the sound of rustling close by yanked him back to wakefulness. 

“Did you hear that?” Arthur asked, with none of the exhaustion that had made his voice slow before. 

“To the west.” Percival confirmed, his sudden booming voice beside Merlin making him jump.

“Is that a fire?” Merlin opened his eyes at the sound of Leon’s voice. The other men were already on their feet, clutching their swords and muskets looking for all the world like they were ready to storm into battle. 

“It could be them.” Arthur said, voicing ringing light and clear. “Gwaine, stay here with Merlin and help him prepare to tend to any injuries they may have. Merlin, are you awake?”

There was a firm nudge on his foot and a rough shake of his shoulder. Merlin sat up quickly, face nearly colliding with Arthur’s in the dark. The other man pushed to his feet again and disappeared into the trees with Leon, and Percy trailing behind them. 

“Where are you going?” Gwaine asked as Merlin pushed to his feet and headed after them. The fire had nearly gone out but there was enough light to see the displeasure rolling off the man at being left behind. 

“Come on. You’ve never been one for following orders, have you?” Merlin’s lips turned up cheekily as he grabbed the medicine bag Gaius had lent him. 

Gwaine needed no further prompting and soon they were both stalking after the others. They caught up with them quickly. Arthur gave them little more than an unsurprised but displeased scowl before he turned his attention back to the clearing that they were skirting and gestured for everyone to be silent. 

Merlin caught a glimpse of a group of four figures clad in heavy cloaks, around a small fire. The din of their voices carried through the eerie silence of the winter night, power ringing in their collective voice.Their magic thrummed in the air around him, and he could feel his own magic, the traitorous thing, straining to join in. It was never this willful. He’d always attributed that to the fact that from a very young age he suppressed it, fearing the hold the devil would have on him if he ever gave in. But it was straining now, nearly dragging him into the clearing on it’s own. He shook with the effort of keeping still as their words, their spell, washed over him. 

He couldn’t see much of the figures obscured beneath their cloaks but the group felt familiar. Something in the way they stood, or the sound of their voices, or maybe even the indefinable feel of their magic that Merlin had never consciously recognized before now. His eyes came to rest on the figure farthest from them. He caught a glimpse of long dark hair and striking green eyes that cut through the dark. He knew those eyes, the shape of that face. Morgana. 

A gasp ripped from his throat unbidden and he was grabbed roughly. A warm dry hand clamped over his mouth, but he was too late. Arthur released Merlin and shoved him behind his back as the small circle of sorcerers turned toward the sound. 

The cloak of the nearest fell away and recognition lit through them all. Nimueh faced them, words flying from her mouth, driving an invisible force straight at Arthur. Merlin could feel it rippling through the air, could feel the vibration down to his bones. He tried to pull Arthur out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. Arthur went flying through the air and collided roughly with a tree a few feet behind the group. 

Arthur’s men leveled their muskets at the sorcerers in practiced synchronization. Just before the shots rang out, the shadows bent around the sorcerers with a jolt of energy that sounded to Merlin’s ears like the crack of a whip, and they were gone. 

Stunned into stillness, Merlin could only watch as the other men pushed forward into the clearing. Weapons raised, ready for a fight if need be. A low groan behind him snapped Merlin out of inaction, and he went running to Arthur’s side. 

Cradling his head gently, Merlin prodded the skin on the back of his head as gingerly as he could and was pleased to find no blood, not even a bump. 

Arthur shoved his hands away and pushed to his feet, not quite managing to conceal his wince. Merlin followed, trying to steady the other man with his hands, but Arthur waved him away.

“Are you hurt?” 

Arthur looked like he wasn’t going to answer, staring past Merlin to watch the men pick through the clearing looking for any kind of evidence that would reveal the identities of the sorcerers. But he rolled his shoulder, clenching his teeth against what seemed to be a considerable amount of pain, and said, “I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure.” Merlin sighed but quickly sucked the breath back up in a sharp gasp as Arthur gripped him by the arms and shoved him against the tree. “What-”

He couldn’t help the warmth that ignited under his skin. It wasn’t the first time he’d imagined the two of them finding themselves in this position, but it usually involved Arthur’s mouth being twisted into something that wasn’t a scowl, and the hands brushing against the sensitive skin on his chest in a caress far less bruising than this.

“Did you know about this?” Arthur asked, voice low, eyes burning into his. 

The icy hands of fear wrapped around Merlin, making his voice shake when he said, “No.” 

“We’re you meant to be a part of it?”

Merlin jolted, voice stronger now, pleading to be believed “No! Arthur, I don’t practice Witchcr-”

“So you say.” Arthur snapped, releasing him suddenly. Merlin nearly crumpled to the ground, his shaking knees unable to hold him without Arthur’s help. 

“I had no knowledge of this, Arthur. You have to believe me.” Against better judgement, Merlin reached out and grasped his wrist before he could walk away. 

Arthur’s eyes were glued to the place their skin met when he said, “Yes. Alright. I believe you.” 

All the air rushed out of him and he slumped against the tree at his back. The sudden relief was nearly suffocating after a very long minute of certainty that he would be sentenced to death. He watched Arthur through the trees as he stood beside Leon who was disturbing the embers of the fire with the tip of his sword. 

When he’d finally gathered himself, he went to stand beside the fire with the rest of them. 

“This is human bone?” Arthur asked without raising his eyes to meet him. 

Merlin looked down at the charred scrap that was being shoved around by Leon’s sword,  at what he’d assumed to be a piece of firewood, crackling in the flames. Swallowing thickly, he said “Yes.” 

They made it back to Camelot in a matter of hours, Arthur pushing them through the night. This was urgent news that needed to be shared with Arthur’s father immediately. They all knew it, so no one complained at the harsh pace he set. They barely stopped to gather up their belongings at the small camp they’d established just an hour ago. 

Merlin came forward and tried again to check if he was injured from his fall, but Arthur just shook him off.

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin!” He’d said and kept walking, mumbling about his shoulder.

“At least take your coat.” Merlin snapped. Arthur sighed and stood still long enough to let Merlin wrestle him into it but when he tried to return the scarf, Arthur shook his head. 

“Keep it.” 

Merlin inspected the small scrap of dark red fabric in his hands. It was finely made and probably very expensive. He was fond of the color. He wasn’t sure when, but he’d started referring to it as Prat Red or Pendragon Red when he was feeling more magnanimous. The thought of keeping it for himself felt strange. 

“It suits you better anyway.” Arthur said gruffly, before turning away and driving them all forward with a few sharp words once again. 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur had gone to his father the moment their small group made it back to Camelot, filling him in on everything they’d seen. 

“We found human bones being burned in some kind of ritual. They were covered in symbols I have never seen before. I would wager they were runes of the old religion.” He finished, trying to gauge his father’s reaction. His expression, a familiar one, was one Arthur referred to in his mind as calculatingly neutral. 

“Let’s see them then.” Uther said and Arthur blanched at the implication. The thought that his father expected him to haul the cursed bones of his men all the way back to town was more than a little unsettling, but he kept his face still.

“I copied the runes into my journal.” Arthur noticed his father shift, his arms crossed, and wondered what about that could possibly irritate his father. He caught on when Uther rose to his feet though, movements sharp. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his head. _I’m a very busy man, Arthur. I do not have time to follow you around town because you were unprepared to present this to me._

And wouldn’t Uther be proud to know he didn’t even have to open his mouth anymore to express his endless disapproval. It’d be so efficient, Arthur thought bitterly and fastened up his coat matching his father’s quick hands over the buttons of his own coat.

They didn’t speak on the short journey down the road to Arthur’s modest house. He’d built it with the help of his father when he first arrived in the new world. It’d grown considerably larger in the years since. The thatch roof was replaced with sturdier shingles after his first winter in Massachusetts. He’d dedicated an entire summer to adding a second story of two bedrooms after he married Gwen. It wouldn’t do for the two of them to share the space on the floor in front of the hearth to sleep, and of course they’d need a place for a child that would be soon to come. Those days seemed long passed now, the hope and endless possibilities of the life that they would share together had faded in the few years they’d been married. Four years on and they’d had yet to have a child, though lately they hardly tried. The whirlwind passion they’d felt for each other had long since faded, and, though they loved one another dearly, Arthur was sure that they were hardly more than cohabiting at this point. 

Arthur could tell his father was disappointed at the lack of grandchildren. Apparently Morgana had been just as unproductive in this respect with her husband Mordred. Though Arthur could hardly blame her for that. Mordred was a fairly unsettling person, one Arthur tended to avoid if he could help it. He rarely spoke, and yet Arthur always got the impression that he was already four steps ahead in the conversation at any given moment. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Arthur led his father inside, startled to see the front room nearly full. He’d expected Leon, Percy, and Gwaine to be home making up for the sleep they’d lost the night before but no, they were filling up the room with laughter and warmth he rarely felt here any more. He caught sight of Guinevere, eyes brimming with tears, and he nearly ran to her side. Her broad grin stopped him, forced him to look around, take in the hands that she had clutched in hers. Elyan’s on her left and Lancelot’s on her right. It took a moment to reconcile what he was seeing with what he knew. 

Elyan and Lance had left Camelot several days ago with a hunting party. Not twelve hours ago, Arthur had been scouring the woods for any sign of them, pulling what he believed to be their bones from a fire lit by a coven of witches. But here they were sitting around his table, in the unrelenting grip, not of heaven but, of Gwen.  

“Hello.” Lancelot pulled his hand away from Gwen’s, and he pushed to his feet shakily. 

He had always known Lancelot to be a gentle soul. It was such a jarring contrast to see blood spattered on his torn clothes and smeared across his skin. He’d heard well enough by Gwen that her childhood friend was the nicest person on earth and in heaven, which might’ve angered  him the way she went on if it wasn’t so true. Lance had come to be as much of a brother by his friendship as Elyan had by marriage.

Seeing Lance and Elyan here, alive and well, if a little worse for wear, flooded him with relief and released some of the tension he’d been dragging around the past few days. 

“Good to see you’re alright.” Arthur stepped forward and placed a solid and well meaning hand on Lance’s shoulder but snatched it away less than a second later at his grimace. Elyan stood up to steady Lance, though he looked even worse.

“Brother.” Elyan said when he stepped away from Lance and pulled Arthur into a brief hug. “We’re far from unscathed, but we’re here.”

“We’ve already sent for Gaius.” Gwen said, reading Arthur’s mind before he could speak it in the way she was wont to do. Then she pulled Elyan and Lance back to their seats as if she couldn’t bear having them out of her reach any longer.

“Speak of the devil.” Gwaine murmured, at the sound of two quick rasps on the door. Arthur glanced over to watch Leon, who was positioned closest to the door, open it for the physician and caught sight of his father still waiting on the doorstep, looking less than thrilled at being delayed. 

“Father, we can speak privately while Gaius tends to these two.” Arthur said lowly, trying not to attract the attention of anyone else. He hardly needed the others catching on to Uther’s sour mood and letting it spoil their reunion, so he led his father into his bedroom.

When they’d reached the edge of town, Arthur had dumped his bag into Merlin’s arms to be dealt with while he went to speak to his father. Half of him had been expecting Merlin to just leave it in the road, or stow it with his own at Gaius’s, but no, his bag was sitting neatly on the end of his bed. Arthur spared a brief smile for the man who probably grumbled the whole time but made sure his bag was returned before anything else. 

He cast a longing glance at the bed itself, wishing for nothing more than just a few minutes to sprawl out in its comfort, but he shook himself before he could give in and returned whole heartedly to his task. 

The worn journal was near the top of his bag so it only took a moment to locate it and find the pages he’d filled with several rudimentary sketches. 

He started to rip them from the binding, but Uther protested, “There’s no point. The loose pages will be more difficult to keep together. Just give me the book.”

Arthur paused, the first page of drawings halfway torn out as he looked between the book and Uther’s expectant outstretched hand. Arthur typically wasn’t prone to wasting time musing about his feelings-that was a woman’s habit-but there were times when he felt the need to vent an excess of emotion. In these rare cases and the even rarer cases when he could not talk to Gwen or a friend, he wrote it all in the journal. He had no desire to see these thoughts in the hands of another and many of the things written in those pages were his most deeply private thoughts.

As badly as he wanted to refuse, he knew it would only draw more suspicion to try to withhold his thoughts which took up the majority of the journal. So he placed the book in Uther’s hand, open to the pertinent page. He would have to trust his father was capable of respecting his privacy.

“Yes, I believe so.” Uther nodded, running his fingers over the lines on the page. “I’ll get Gaius’ opinion, of course. He is much more knowledgable about these things, but I believe these are runes of the old religion.”

Arthur breathed a sigh and nodded. It was just as he’d expected but hearing it confirmed sapped some of the warmth from him. “From what I gather, the hunting party was attacked by the same witches that attacked us last night. We must be sure to get the testimony of the men who survived, but they should rest first.”

Uther didn’t look too happy about the idea, but he conceded. Before he excused himself to speak to the minister, he made Arthur aware of the need for appropriate preparations. 

 

With every dab of alcohol over the long gash across his chest, Elyan’s trembling got worse. Merlin was busy wrapping up a shallow cut on Lane’s shoulder, but he kept his eyes on Gaius’ progress on the other injured man. He would need stitches. Maybe a potion to bring down the fever that had to be the cause of the sickly pallor even on his dark skin, and the glossy sheen of sweat coating his forehead. Elyan would need more care than could be given here even though he seemed reluctant to leave his sister’s side. Gwen looked even less willing to let him go. She just kept wiping his brow with a damp cloth and whispering assurances as Gaius cleaned the wound. 

When Merlin turned back to tie off Lance’s bandage, he was met with familiar dark eyes pinning him with gentle expectation. 

“Is he going to be alright?” He asked out loud when Merlin pretended not to see the question in his face. 

He drew in a breath to answer. It stilled in his throat as he thought about it. The truth was grim but he’d seen Gaius bring people back from the brink of death. He didn’t want to lie to him or give false hope but he caught Gwen watching them out of the corner of his eye, face creased in concern. Merlin sighed, “Time will tell.” 

“Appropriately cryptic.” Lance nodded, lowing his voice so Gwen couldn’t hear. “You’ll make a good physician.”

Merlin laughed, a quiet rush of air. Lance patted his shoulder, still bearing that genuine smile that made the recipient feel like maybe everything would be okay after all, and thanked him. It was a smile Merlin knew well, and he spared a moment of contemplation over the fact that this expression was a good one for an aspiring physician to master. 

“Just doing my job.” Merlin said, placing all the supplies into the old bag at his feet. He was just figuring a tactful way to ask Lance what happened to them in the woods, but Gaius called for him before he could ask. 

“Merlin, a word.” Gaius said, beckoning him with a crooked finger. Merlin came to his side, brows raised expectantly, but Gaius place a hand squarely on his back and led him further from the others. 

“What is it?”

“I need to take Elyan home to care for him. I remembered you mentioned Arthur needed some attention, but I must go. Elyan’s situation is worsening rapidly.” 

“Of course. I can look after Arthur. Unless you need my help…” Merlin’s eyes were drawn to Elyan across the room who was looking ready to fall out of his chair. 

“I can manage.” Gaius assured him. “We will leave after he eats. He needs as much strength as he can get. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Merlin blinked at him blankly. 

“I’ve heard the word witchcraft used more times this morning than my old heart can take.” Gaius said, and some of the tension melted out of Merlin as he caught onto the other man’s meaning before he finished speaking. “You’ve been looking after yourself, haven’t you?” 

“Yes. I’m alright.” He said, thoughts drifting toward the night before, crushed between the rough bark of a tree and two tense fists digging into his chest. 

“Good.” Gaius nodded, seeming satisfied. “We’ll talk more when we have privacy.” 

“Sure.” Merlin answered automatically, watching Gaius return to the table. He knew Gaius only meant well by trying to talk, but Merlin wished he wouldn’t. 

He’d never seen anyone practice witchcraft before. He’d heard of it, of course, heard the fear that made the voices of strong men quiver. But he’d never felt that kind of power, never felt as if his own soul was straining to rip from his own body like his magic had screamed to join in that strange ritual the night before. 

It was a secretive point of pride for him that he’d managed to suppress his magical urges for so long. Conquering his own physical desires had made him feel strong. Or he thought it had. The night before, he’d tasted raw, wild, unmatched strength like it had been shot straight into his veins. When his magic surged to the surface, he felt like he could do anything. Pull his magic around him and take flight, fell a tree with a whisper, end the lives of everyone in that clearing with a look. 

It was heady. It was terrifying. It was something he would rather die than feel again and something he was afraid he would never get to feel again as long as he lived. Merlin was happy to push aside the memory and never speak a word of it to anyone.

 

When Arthur left his room, it was to find the men practically inhaling the breakfast Gwen set before them. The smell of it had wafted, filling the room with the mouth watering scent. Arthur drifted down the stairs. The men were eating their fill enthusiastically, chatting around full mouths. Gaius was sneaking bits of his own food onto Elyan and Merlin’s plates. And Merlin, who must’ve come with Gaius, was locked in what looked to be a serious debate with Gwen, given the tension in his stiff form.  

There were no seats left at his own table and even if there were, there wouldn’t have been any space on the surface of the table, it being so overtaken. Arthur didn’t mind, though. It was such a wonderful thing to feel their presence fill up every corner of this house that he’d always felt was much too big. 

Rather than interrupt any of them, he retreated to his office. The cramped room piled high with books and flooded with vaguely organized documents that he _called_ his office. His real office was back in his father’s mansion in England which he hadn’t seen in almost five years. He didn’t have much business back then, so it was always neat and orderly, with cabinets for filing and well made shelves for his books, not the slapdash furniture he’d managed to scrounge up here.

There wasn’t enough gold to buy a sturdy piece of craftsmanship from England in one of the larger trade ports and there weren’t enough men skilled in the craft in his own town. They were mostly farmers, come to the new world to make quick money or practice their religious beliefs more freely than they would be able to in Europe. How his father expected to turn a profit here he had no idea, when all the people he had at his disposal were either too busy hunting witches to work or too busy digging for gold in their vegetable gardens to contribute to industry. 

His father fit in quite well here actually, at least in that respect. It had been his idea to send a group of trappers into the woods to get as many pelts as they could. Uther wanted to break into the fur trade. 

It seemed like a waste of resources to Arthur. He’d attempted more than once to voice this opinion to his father- the futility of it with the French dominating the industry so close by to the north, how they should allocate their resources to livestock which the people of Camelot were actually familiar with. In their position on the border, with some work they had the potential to control livestock trade in Massachusetts as well as Maine-but he’d been rebuffed so many times, it hardly seemed worth the effort any more. Fur trade was lucrative and Uther was insistent on being a part of it. Even at the risk of his people.

All in all, the people he governed scraped together enough to get by and Arthur would’ve been okay with that-keeping them safe and satisfied in their small ways in their new lives in America-if he wouldn’t have had his father breathing down his neck and sending correspondence nearly ever day about how Camelot’s exports were fairing. He’d only just gathered the courage to tell his father that there _were_ no exports, as the men had to learn how to hunt before they could go out into the woods to gather furs, when Uther showed up from his most recent trip to Virginia, informing Arthur that he would be staying for a few weeks just to make sure things were running smoothly.

Arthur ran his hand through his hair and winced at the sharp sting in his shoulder the movement caused. He’d forgotten about the throbbing ache that had yet to recede since he was thrown into a tree the night before.

As if summoned by Arthur’s pain, there was a heavy knock on door. When Merlin popped his head into the room, it was a bit of a shock. A spark of shame flared up before Arthur tamped it down. After the way Arthur had treated him the night before-accusation and suspicion-he’d assumed that Merlin would be keeping a distance.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, though he wasn’t entirely displeased to see Merlin. 

“I am training to be a physician, you know.” Merlin said, setting down that weathered medicine bag he must’ve borrowed from Gaius and stepping fully into the room. He closed the door behind him before he spoke. “I’m more than capable of tending to your injured shoulder.”

Arthur covered his laugh with an exasperated sigh. Leave it to Merlin to know exactly what he needed even if he couldn’t admit it himself. “I’m fine.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He said simply and Arthur let out a single huff of laughter at the sheer stubbornness of the man. 

“You’re not as perceptive as you’d have me believe.” Arthur said, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I’m perceptive enough to know that your shoulder’s stiff, maybe even sprained. I’m also perceptive enough to know that you’re too stubborn to admit it. So I’m going to tend to your shoulder even if I have to hold you down to do it.” Merlin promised, crossing his own arms. 

“If you say so.” Arthur said, eyeing the other man speculatively. He certainly knew better than to believe that Merlin would even be able to pin him without magic but he’d seen how fierce Merlin’s determination could be when he put his mind to something and this wasn’t really even an argument that Arthur wanted to win that much. His shoulder throbbed in agreement. 

He remembered when he’d first met Merlin. Arthur had been surprised that he was so tall. That was only a passing thought though, because Arthur eyes were instantly drawn to the dark hair curling riotously around his ridiculous ears. To the creamy skin, smooth over even more ridiculous cheekbones. The man was a caricature. His tapered jaw seemed to direct Arthur’s eyes to rich lips, red and round and caught between the man’s teeth teasingly. All those features belonged on the face of beautiful ladies not with this gangly awkward wisp of a man, he remembered thinking absently, then he’d frozen inside out, wondering at where that thought could’ve possibly come from. But it wasn’t strange was it? He could measure this newcomer as a sum of his parts innocently, couldn’t he? 

He was almost sure he’d said something insulting then that led to them openly despising each other for weeks. It was strange to think that that man in his memories was the same friend standing before him now.

He considered teasing him, asking if Merlin had ever actually performed a medical procedure. He thought better of it when Merlin started digging through his bag and setting supplies in an orderly row on the edge of his desk. It couldn’t be wise to taunt the man who was about to be working on him. So he pulled off his shirt instead, glad to be free of the scratchy cloth against the tender skin of his bruises.

 

Merlin wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. When Gaius had told him that he was too busy to look after Arthur, Merlin had volunteered. He did it without any thought other than the fact that Arthur was in pain and he knew how to alleviate it but standing here now, he was faced with just how horrible an idea this really was. He allowed himself a silent, internal moment of panic as he looked at the man in front of him. His patient. The man with hair shining like gold in the warm candle light, with a strong jaw clenched in restraint and inscrutable eyes looking at Merlin warily in much the way Merlin imagined he was looking at Arthur. And that was just from the neck up, Merlin thought a little desperately. He had to brace himself before his looked down. Merlin had been resolutely looking _anywhere but_ down and with good reason. Because the moment he did, he couldn’t breathe. 

Even with the colorful bruise cutting down his shoulder and chest, he still looked as though he was sculpted from marble. Broad shoulders and arms and a scattering of fine blond hair over that chest trailing down into territory that Merlin didn’t dare let his eyes stray to. 

Gaius had given him a quick run down of how to tend to the damaged muscles so they could heal faster but the thought of Merlin putting his hands on that body alone in this room right now had him forgetting even his own name. 

Arthur cleared his throat and Merlin’s eyes snapped back up to his face. He noticed a tinge of pink in the other man’s cheeks and was filled abruptly with horror at his own reaction. 

“Have a seat.” Merlin said gesturing to the chair behind the desk, his own voice rough and unfamiliar. 

“Sure you know what you’re doing?” Arthur teased, pulling the chair around so it was at the front of the desk before the line of supplies Merlin had clumsily laid out on it’s surface. Merlin did not watch him out of the corner of his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to, and only turned back to his patient when he had a clean cloth and the bottle of sterile alcohol in hand.

He kept his motions professional and perfunctory as he cleaned the skin of his shoulder, even when his finger slipped off the edge of the cloth, his touch raising goosebumps on Arthur's flesh. That didn’t stop his eyes from trailing over the tension just beneath the skin of his shoulders, his neck coiled like whipcord as he stretched it to give Merlin better access. He was overcome with the sudden urge to ease some of that tension with his hands. And that was alright, he thought giddily. Well within the purview of a physician for the care of a patient. 

After he’d put aside the cloth, he let his fingers linger on Arthur’s shoulders. He was fully prepared and braced for the rebuff that would follow his uninvited touch. But Arthur just stretched his neck out a little further. Merlin gave him a more careful look and noticed eyes that had slipped closed under Merlin’s ministrations. 

He dipped his fingers into the salve Gaius had assured him would ease some of the pain from sore muscles, warming it slowly between his fingertips. There was tension churning low in his stomach and he prayed that his breathing wasn’t as loud as it sounded in his own head as he placed his hand more firmly on Arthur’s skin. He gave his shoulder an experimental squeeze and all the breath escaped Arthur in a rush. 

He leaned back in the chair and sank deeper into Merlin’s hands, not giving any objections when Merlin placed his other hand on his bare shoulder. 

Half of Merlin’s mind was screaming at him to let the man go. There was no end to this situation in which Merlin got out unscathed for his presumptions. But the other half of his mind, obviously the side of his brain that controlled his hands, had completely shut down and the only reason he was still upright despite his own lack of mental facilities was locked knees and a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders. 

Merlin found a thick knot of tension just where his shoulders met his neck and worked it with deft fingers until the catch released with a sudden drawn out moan from the man under his hands.Arthur’s head tipped back and rested against Merlin’s chest with a sigh. He couldn’t resist one last lingering touch across the skin of Arthur’s neck. All the tension that Merlin had just managed to manipulate away snapped back.

He was breathing heavy and ragged like he’d been running a great distance as he watched Arthur push out of the chair and grasp for his shirt.       

“Feeling better?” Merlin asked, amazed at how even and cheerful his voice was. He was sure the punch would come any moment, or maybe Arthur would run out and tell everyone of his perversion. It really was an idiotic move on his part. The worst part was, Merlin couldn’t even bring himself to regret the small contact he’d managed to have. 

But Arthur didn’t react violently to his rather obvious, and rather stupid, actions. He just straightened his shirt and gave a tense smile, “Much thank you.”

Merlin nodded, accepting the clear dismissal for what it was. To be honest, the sooner he got away from there the better. He gathered up the supplies and organized them neatly in his bag. “Gaius will check in a few days to see how you’re healing.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, just nodded and dragged his chair back to the proper side of the desk. He indulged himself in one last look before he left. Arthur was shuffling through a stack of documents on his desk absently. Merlin’s eyes were drawn to his neck, unable to get the image of his own fingers on that skin out of his mind. 

The linen shirt he had on was thin but it was loose and while it didn’t give Merlin a glimpse of any of the muscle he’d seen before, he wore it open wide at the neck. A deep V cut halfway down his chest, barely held together by a string. Merlin’s eyes were glued to that sliver of tan skin. It was hard to look away when he knew exactly what it felt like. 

That was more than enough, Merlin scolded himself and headed for the door. Well, he would’ve if he hadn’t knocked over a small stack of papers on the desk with his bag. 

“I hope this wasn’t important.” Merlin burst out. Dropping to his knees, he tried to scoop the papers back into a tidy stack but they refused to cooperate.

“Hardly.” Arthur snorted darkly.  

Merlin glanced at him, brows pushed up at his tone.

“That’s the beginnings of an investigation into the presence of witches in Camelot. I told my father about what we discovered in the woods yesterday and now he’s certain that the devil has taken hold of his village.”

“Did you tell him we saw Nimueh among them?” Merlin asked, pushing to his feet, papers balanced messily in his hands. _And Morgana,_ his brain helpfully added but he pushed that away. That was a revelation he could never voice. Accusing Judge Uther Pendragon’s daughter of witchcraft was a sure way as any to be hanged. 

“I did.” Arthur nodded. “That’s what prompted this. He wants me to investigate all the people close to her in case she corrupted anyone else.”

Merlin placed the papers on the desk hoping the fact that they were in no particular order wouldn’t cause anyone any trouble. Arthur didn’t seem concerned.

“The people have gathered up the scent of a coven of withes worshipping nearby. I got quite an earful from my father at that.” Arthur sighed, collapsing back into his chair. “He’s not concerned about the panic that has already begun to spread, but that I haven’t done more to stop the spread of witchcraft in his jurisdiction.” 

“What would he have you do? You can’t stop anyone from turning from god. What more can you do but” His suddenly dry throat clicked as he swallowed “burn the witches.”

“Believe me, I know.” Arthur said, scrubbing his hands over his face. Merlin wondered if he was trying to wipe away the weariness that seemed to be dragging him down. His next words were entirely unexpected. “About last night…I was wrong to suspect you were involved. You’ve always been a good friend to me. I shouldn’t have doubted that.”

It took him a moment to respond. He hadn’t been expecting any sort of apology from Arthur, those were very rare things, but it made his chest swell with something like affection and pride that made it difficult to speak. “Thank you.”

As good as it felt though, Arthur was trying to reassure him that his response to the threat of witchcraft hadn’t been appropriate but that was hardly true. Arthur had to be vigilant, cautious if he was going to protect his people. He couldn’t be doubting himself because of misguided guilt toward Merlin for persecuting ‘his people’. Merlin had been scared the night before, when Arthur gripped him and threatened his life but when it was over he was glad because in the end Merlin didn’t trust himself and Arthur shouldn’t either. “Arthur, I know you’ll do the right thing, what needs to be done to keep Camelot safe.” 

He wasn’t sure if the full meaning had sunk in but Arthur nodded. “How am I supposed to keep people safe from fear or doubt? It slithers into people’s mind like smoke. How in god’s name am I supposed to stand against an enemy I can’t see?”

“You don’t need to fight against fear.” Merlin shrugged at Arthur’s questioning look. The words were tense, especially given the fact of his own magic hanging in the air between them. He hated reminding Arthur of what it really meant to have magic and what it meant about Merlin. He would rather not remind his friend that his soul was probably black and unsalvageable from the grip of the devil. But the words were important because there were sorcerers out there, intent on harming the people of Camelot and he couldn’t have Arthur forgetting that.“You have to fight against witches, Arthur. Witches who have the  power of satan within them and are killing people. Let the townspeople be scared, it might even save them.”

“My father’s planning to call upon Aredian.” Arthur spoke suddenly. His tone was much more urgent than the words called for, nearly frantic. Like he couldn’t bear Merlin not knowing any longer. Like he needed to know because the information was vital but Merlin showed no recognition and Arthur sighed, “He’s a minister from Boston. They call him the Witchfinder.” 

 

Merlin pushed out of the study. Guinevere and Lance were chatting quietly in the parlor, heads leaned in close. The others must have left to rest. It had been a trying few days. 

Merlin had nearly run into Gwen in his haste. He caught her by the arms before they could collide and brushed off her profuse apologies. His face was flaming as thoughts of where his hands had just been not ten minutes before.

“It’s good to see you Merlin.” She smiled so sweetly Merlin couldn’t meet her eye. “Were you tending to Arthur?”

He nearly choked on his own tongue as his mind came alive with all the ways it had been imagining _tending to him_ while he rubbed his hands over his skin. “Yes.” He managed to squeak out. 

Lancelot excused himself. That bright grin that had nearly split his face in two had withered considerably but Merlin didn’t pay it much mind beyond wishing him a good evening. 

“That’s good. He’s been storming around here, making a fuss and pretending it wasn’t bothering him.” She smiled exasperatedly and though Merlin knew she was speaking of Arthur, her eyes rested on the door Lance had just passed through. 

“Well, it should be fine, now.” Merlin could hardly stand her easy kindness anymore.

“What a relief. He’s always so stubborn.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Merlin laughed and excused himself. He pulled the door open and considered ignoring her when she spoke again, just so he could make a hasty exit. 

“Merlin?”

But he could just run off into the night. He couldn’t do that to her, she deserved more respect than that. Certainly more respect than he’d given her when he had his hands on her husband. The thought made his skin heat with embarrassment and shame and something else he refused to even name for the sin of it. 

“What is it?” He asked, turning back to her. He kept his grip on the handle, unable to release the single lifeline. 

“I hardly ever see you anymore.” She said, coming to stand beside him. He wasn’t sure if she was pitching her voice low to punctuate her sincerity or so that Arthur couldn’t hear in the next room. “You and Arthur used to be such good friends. I thought a day wouldn’t go by without seeing you here. Did something happen? Did the two of you have a falling out? Because whatever it is, I’m sure he’s sorry for it. He misses you. I can tell.” 

“I haven’t gone anywhere.” Merlin’s laugh was forced and Gwen saw straight through it.

“I don’t need to know what’s happened. Just think about what I said and know that you’re always welcome here.” She said and guided him gently out the door. He was left dumbfounded as she closed the door after him. 

Merlin didn’t want to think about what had happened two months ago that had driven him from the Pendragon home. He didn’t want to remember the hatred, the fear, the betrayal playing across Arthur’s face when he learned of Merlin’s magic. 

He’d tried to explain, pleaded for Arthur to understand that it was a curse he’d been born with and not a choice he’d made. But Arthur said nothing and hadn’t looked at him, even in passing, for nearly a month. The whole length of it, Merlin was sure he would be put on trial but no accusations ever came. Instead, Arthur had returned to their old routine of banter and comfortable association which Merlin would’ve been grateful for if he hadn’t been able to feel the sharp tension under ever word and glance. 

The night before had been the first time he mentioned the magic. Merlin was almost sure that Arthur was content to imagine it had never happened, that he’d just dreamed Merlin catching a scythe without using his hands before it could fall on Lancelot as they helped to harvest his meagre crop. But Arthur hadn’t forgotten no matter how badly Merlin wished he would. 

As time had passed though, he’d forced it from his mind and tried to reclaim some of that old easy friendship he and Arthur used to share. Which wasn’t without its own obstacles. Merlin’s own insistent traitorous body the biggest obstacle of all. Tonight was the first time in weeks since the revelation that he had allowed his thoughts of Arthur to turn in such a way that made it hard to catch his breath. And he knew he had a long, sleepless, sweaty, aching, night ahead of him.

 

Arthur finally crawled into bed around sundown, collapsing in an exhausted heap but sleep was just as far from him then as it was before. His mind raced with everything that needed to be done and he wasn’t looking forward to any of it. 

Gwen followed him into bed a few minutes later. He knew she had spent the last few nights as restlessly as he had, worried as she was about her brother, her husband, and her friends. He kept his eyes closed listening the sound their breath made in the silence, waiting for hers to even out as it does in sleep. It didn’t. 

He considered opening up to her, admitting everything that was plaguing him. But he stayed silent. Gwen was an amazing listener, and he used to tell her everything, letting her calm steadiness ease his wild mind. But she had the habit of listening to him wrestle over a problem for several minutes and respond with something like “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing” or something equally unhelpful or meretricious. So he saved his breath.

Aredian’s arrival would only bring the start of chaos Arthur knew neither he nor the people of Camelot were ready for, and people were going to die. He knew as much from what he’d heard of the Witchfinder. His reputation certainly preceded him, if only it wasn’t one of cruelty and unrelenting focus to the task of purifying the land of the devil. 

Arthur wasn’t sure he could understand his father’s hatred of magic. Most avoided it out of fear of the power, or devotion to God. Arthur himself had been wary of the mention it, of course. Any good christian man would but since he’d known Merlin, his opinion had begun to change. 

When Arthur had first witnessed Merlin’s magic, it had been used to save a life. That alone was almost enough to stay his tongue but he’d been raised to know that witchcraft and all who practice are evil and he was rushing to tell his father within minutes. Looking back he was always a bit sickened at how childish he’d acted, rushing instantly to his father’s side to tattle, but then he’d remind himself that in matters of the devil nothing is so trivial. 

He’d gone to his father and just the hinting of a witch was enough to send his father on a rant about their insidious nature, the infectious evil of magic and how it had taken his wife. But standing in his father’s study, hearing him describe the nature of witches and their evil, he was reminded more of Morgana than anyone and he hesitated. Merlin revealed his magic to save Lance’s life from a falling scythe and while Arthur was trying to convince himself that the witch must have had some kind of hidden agenda, he couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be.

He’d risked his own life without a thought to save another and while that particular act wasn’t congruous with Arthur’s idea of a witch, it was so _Merlin_ that it settled any doubts.  

It took a month of watching from afar to satisfy himself that this one life saving act wasn’t part of some evil plan to overthrow the church. Arthur realized after the first week that his suspicions didn’t have much grounds when he watched the young man patch up a child who had fallen and scraped her knee. Unless that little girl was in league with the devil he didn’t have much of a case, no matter how hard he tried to make one. He’d spent the whole month observing Merlin, trying to find a reason to turn him in. 

It took a month to bring himself to speak to Merlin again. That had had it’s challenges, Merlin eyeing him warily the whole time, twitchy as a skittish horse.

He’d been trying very hard to accept Merlin’s magic since. He still hadn’t discounted the possibility that the man was a demon. But he was trying to accept it and see Merlin as the man he’d known for what felt like his whole life because he couldn’t fathom hurting him. It was easy when he was grinning broadly, or the tips of his ears blushing in embarrassment. It was easy in those times to know that yes, Merlin had magic but he would never hurt anyone. But other times, he could feel the current of power flowing just beneath the surface waiting to be tapped. He saw it in the way Merlin set his jaw defiantly or when he clenched his fists. 

Even earlier that day, he couldn’t fully trust the gentle hands on him that were only there to soothe away his pain, but he didn’t wish them away either. Even when those hands had finished their work he missed them when they pulled away.

Merlin had strength that was undetectable, unmeasurable but it was there. He knew it was the unknown that scared him. He could never really be sure of his intentions.

But he’d seen the horror in Merlin’s eyes when he saw the human bones scattered around the witches’ alter and he’d been perversely glad of it because it revealed better than any words how Merlin felt about the practice of witchcraft. He might’ve had magic but underneath even that he was just a man, a regular god fearing man and Arthur realized then that maybe it was time he started treating him that way instead of with the veiled suspicion that had colored all of their interactions since Arthur found out.

Whether he accepted it or not, he couldn’t stop the nervous energy from tingling under his skin whenever he was with Merlin. It was like he was a compressed spring just waiting to be released, waiting for someone to find out their secret. If this was how Merlin felt all the time, Arthur could spare a moment of sympathy for him.

“It was nice to have everyone over.” Gwen said, her gentle voice sounding imposing after so much silence. “We should do that more often.”

Arthur hummed a vague agreement.

“I noticed Merlin was wearing your red scarf.”

“I gave it to him.” He said, without opening his eyes. He thought that was the end of it, but she broke the silence after a long few minutes. 

“I made that for your birthday.”

He kicked himself internally for such a thoughtless move. How could he have forgotten? When he offered it to Merlin, he hadn’t been thinking about anything but Merlin’s lips turning blue from the cold. It’d seemed like such a good idea at the time but he could tell it hurt Gwen more deeply than she let on, simply because she tried to mention it so cooly. She wasn’t a shy woman, not anymore. There was a time when she would hold back about minor irritants, bearing them in silence, but after being married for long, she had stopped holding back from him. She wasn’t afraid when she irritated or enraged anymore, but she held back now. 

So he knew what he’d done was more than just rude, it had hurt Gwen deeply but, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the scarf being in Merlin’s possession now. He liked seeing it on Merlin, liked the way it brought out the color in his cheeks and the way it draped softly over the corded muscles of his neck. He should apologize for hurting her feelings if anything but instead, he said, “Lancelot seemed very keen to see you.”

Gwen rolled over so her back was to him and no more words were spoken between them. 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Camelot was a small town full of small people that Merlin had come to know so closely in his time here. He knew these people in their thatched houses and their pleasant “good morning”s as they passed one another on the street, and in their dutiful praying in Sunday mass. Seeing them this way was terrifying. 

A crowd had amassed on the outskirts of the village, a mob. Every eye looking on hungrily as Nimueh was led up the gallows adorned with a single noose. 

Her trial had been quick. She offered no objection to her guilt, admitting freely to practicing witchcraft in the woods two nights before. The minister, Reverend Geoffrey Monmouth, and Judge Uther Pendragon stood before her as the whole village watched and questioned her devotion to God. 

“God is dead.” She replied simply and the church had erupted. Uther had barely been able to sentence her before the people dragged her to the field behind the jailhouse and demanded her neck be broken before another hour passed. 

Merlin was standing among them now, swept along in the crowd against his will and he could see Arthur standing with his father out of the corner of his eye. He wondered absently if Arthur agreed with the people milling about craving the blood of that who would speak such foul words agains their beloved god. 

Merlin wondered if he’d be marched up that platform by the people he considered friends if anyone looked inside his mind and discovered the secrets hiding there. Or would they try to save his soul?

He didn’t pay much attention to the speech Uther made. Instead, his eyes were locked on Arthur, standing proudly beside his father. Merlin didn’t listen, already knowing well what Uther Pendragon had to say about magic. He would not stop until the evil was hunted and purged from his land. The sentiment was familiar enough to almost be a comfort, but the sight of Arthur nodding along his silent support made Merlin sick. 

 

Arthur sighed. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Maybe one of these days he’d be lucky enough to make it for a few hours without having to sigh. But as it was now, he sighed. 

Nimueh was being led to the noose, tears streaming down her face. She could barely walk, her body was shaking with sobs, but her jailers dragged her along. He knew better than to think he had any power over these people at a time like this even as their sherrif. He was a leader of this colony but when his people heard the word witch, he might has well have been a woman for all the control he had over the ensuing mob.

So he sighed, because his people were forcing a women up those steps to her certain death, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

Maybe his father was right. Maybe it was better this way if he could help this woman, cleanse her soul of sin. It sounded like an excuse to Arthur and a weak one at that. These people were afraid of demons and they’d burn all of Camelot to the ground if they thought it would spare them. This woman wasn’t a demon. He knew that. Most of the people in the crowd knew that too. But no one spoke against it when the rope was placed around her neck because they were all afraid of even the possibility of witchcraft. 

And if Arthur was being honest with himself, he was afraid too.

The noose was tightened with a sharp tug, and, like it had cast a spell of its own, the woman in its grasp transformed. Her tears vanished, sobs stilled, and in a second her entire countenance changed from the terrified woman who’d begged for mercy just moments before to the terrifying woman who’d attacked him in the woods. When asked for her last words, Nimueh just smirked and said, “I’ll see you all in hell.”

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Gaius was watching him as he paced around the workspace trying to look as though he wasn’t actually pacing by stopping at one of the various tables every so often and sifting through its contents for a moment.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing.” Merlin sighed when he failed to come up with a suitable answer fast enough. He shuffled around a bunch of vials at one table, wiping away imaginary dust from the surfaces of each. He heard the ruffle of Gaius’ clothes as he came to stand beside him but he didn’t look up. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of what he’d see in the old man’s eyes. 

“You mustn't be so worried.” 

“Mustn’t I?” Merlin almost laughed. He snorted bitterly and set the vial in his hand down with a resounding thud. “Nimueh wasn’t even properly sentenced before those people marched her to her death.”

“Uther’s ruling was hardly difficult to predict.”

“You’re defending them?” Merlin spun on him, all his bottled up rage brimming to the surface and ready to spill over. He had tried so hard to tell himself that they did the right thing. Camelot had to be defended from the devil and his servants, he’d told Arthur as much just yesterday. He couldn’t muster it in himself though, and he couldn’t let go of the misplaced anger inside him. 

Gaius quelled it with an arched brow and a disapproving frown. “You know very well I’m not defending their actions. What we saw today was not justice, it was a lynch mob.”

“I’ve known from a very young age that I was damned in the eyes of god and the law.” Merlin said, weak now that the fight had drained out of him. He just wanted to sit down. “But I never imagined I’d be dragged to justice by my hair at the hands of my neighbors.” 

“You’ve been careful, haven’t you?” Gaius’ eyes burned into him, both a question and an accusation. “Not using your magic where anyone else can see.” 

“I wouldn’t dare.” Merlin swore quickly. Then a well-worn memory surfaced and he cringed. “Only once and Arthur saw.” 

Gaius sighed the sigh of an old man, world weary and a little hopeless. “Then I fear you should leave Camelot. Uther Pendragon controls this town and while Arthur may not be the same man as his father, he certainly can’t be expected to withhold this in the face of recent events.”

“But he already has withheld it.” Merlin said, unsure why he was rushing to doubt the same fears that had been burning in his mind for long enough to drive him mad. 

Gaius eyed him but said nothing. 

“I trust him.” Merlin said and it was only after he’d spoken the words that he realized how deeply he meant them. He’d known Arthur for barely a year but he’d grown closer to him in that time than anyone else in his entire life. 

Of course they’d hated each other at first-Arthur was a complete prat-but Merlin was drawn to him and somehow along the way they’d become nearly inseparable. Gaius had been kind enough not to question why his new apprentice sought out the company of the sheriff so often. For that Merlin was grateful, mostly because he didn’t have a reason. Within the first few weeks of arriving in Camelot, he’d fallen easily into the acquaintance of Gwaine and Lance and Arthur by association. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment the verbal blows they traded turned dull and teasing. He could remember the first time he’d seen Arthur’s soul though.

It had been some day in midwinter when a storm ravaged the town, destroying what food they’d managed to store up after an unforgiving harvest season, and taking many lives. Merlin happened upon Arthur in his study, a habit Merlin would come to learn meant Arthur was feeling contemplative. He’d admitted that he was scared, for himself and his people. That was when he learned that under that arrogant exterior Arthur Pendragon was one of the best men he’d ever met. Merlin told him about the harsh winters in Ealdor, how the elements always claimed the weak, and promised him that Camelot would survive. 

Things had changed between them after that. Merlin dropped by more often. Mostly they would bicker, which Merlin enjoyed because it was easy and it made him smile despite himself, but sometimes he caught Arthur staring out the window, and they would talk about things they didn’t talk to anyone else about. Arthur whispered about how he knew he would never be good enough for his father but he couldn’t stop trying. Merlin spoke of how he’d never fit in in Ealdor, that he was scared there wasn’t any place in the world he really belonged. They shared the empty feeling of being raised by two hands instead of four, they debated the nature of god, they admitted that England still felt like home and that Camelot was a strange place. All of it made Merlin smile too but in a different way. 

Sometimes he wished he would’ve told Arthur about his magic one of those times, wondered if Arthur would’ve reacted the same way. He had to remind himself that the speculation didn’t matter. Arthur knew and he’d still kept Merlin’s secret which was more than he ever could’ve asked for. Merlin couldn’t help but trust the man who he’d shared those quiet evenings with, that realization only strengthening his faith in him. 

“I trust him.” He repeated. 

“Then there is hope for us yet.” Gaius smiled, pulling Merlin into his arms. Merlin went willingly, burrowing into the frail yet deceptively strong embrace. 

Merlin wrapped his arms around the old man and held him tightly in return. He’d never expected this when he came to Camelot. All his life he’d been given a wide berth, given speculative looks, and just outright hatred from so many people in Ealdor. Even his mother, his sweet lonely mother, shut herself away and wept in fear of what her son was. She prayed to the lord to save his soul, which was as good as any loving mother could do when she discovered her child had magic. Even though he never doubted for a moment that she loved him, he felt the fear in her embrace. Whether it was fear for him or of him, he would never know but it hardly mattered. He never thought he would find a place in the world where he was accepted, and while he might not love everything about Camelot, this was good enough. Hunith had sent him off into the world with all the savings Merlin couldn’t convince her to keep. He’d come to Camelot looking for a better life, to build more for himself than just barely scraping by, to keep his secrets safe and he’d been embraced by a near stranger. It was the closest thing he would come to knowing the love of a father and in some ways it was better. There would never be a day that he wasn’t grateful to Gaius not just for taking him in but for accepting his magic.

“Come now. Cheer up.” Gaius patted his back a few times before pulling away and heading toward the kitchen. He returned with two plates of cold bread and meat left over from their supper the night before.

They ate together in silence until the food was nearly gone and Merlin couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“What do you think the witches were doing out there?”

Gaius glanced up at Merlin and tore off a piece of bread from his chunk and chewed on it as he considered Merlin’s question. “I’m afraid I don’t know.

Merlin sighed, tossing aside what was left of his bread and pushing his plate away. Gaius watched, disapproval written in his eyes but he made no comment about his loss of appetite. 

“Uther has tasked me with looking into the runes. I do not have much information to drawn on but I believe once I have done my research, the matter will be clearer.” 

“The runes that were carved onto human bones, you mean?” 

“I understand your trepidation Merlin but I will hardly be incanting a spell. It is more like translating a language than any magic.” Gaius stood, gathering up the dishes. 

“Still,” Merlin insisted, twisting on his stool to follow the old man through the room. “Having that kind of knowledge of witchcraft is punishable by death.” 

“I’m an old man who has dedicated his life to knowledge. If I were put to death for every time I learned something I shouldn’t have, I would be dead a hundred times over.” 

“I can’t believe you are being so nonchalant about this.” Merlin called into the other room.

Gaius peered through the doorway with pursed lips and scowling eyes. “Honestly, Merlin, What harm has ever come from reading a book?”

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

The tavern was packed a few hours later when Merlin and Arthur took a table in the corner with Gwaine and Percival. 

“He’s to arrive tomorrow.” Arthur said into his mug. Gwaine and Percival were in the middle of a rather intense game of dice and Merlin was staring down at the table. He’d been unable to drag his thoughts away from the dark turn they’d taken that afternoon and Arthur’s sudden words startled him. 

“Hmm?” Merlin asked, barely looking up.

“Aredian.”

“Oh.” 

“So if you’ve got any spell books, now’s the time to throw them into the river.” Arthur said, nudging his shoulder and trying to drag a smile onto his friend’s lips. 

Merlin’s head snapped up, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Arthur would’ve laughed if he didn’t look so terrified. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know. Just thought you should be prepared.” Arthur said, the playful note in his voice gone. He took a long pull from his drink, unable to meet Merlin’s eye. 

Merlin gripped his arm tightly. He forced Arthur to meet his gaze for a long moment, “Arthur, you know I don’t use-”

“I know.” He said, glancing around to make sure no one around them was listening too closely. They were mostly ignored, everyone caught up in their own conversations or the bottom of their mugs. “You explained it perfectly well the first time.”

“Good.” Merlin said with a sharp nod.

“I just want you to be careful. Aredian has ways of dragging secrets from men who didn’t even know they had them.”

Arthur watched the other man take a long shaky breath, then another, and another, and when none of that had managed to calm him, Arthur shoved his own mug into his hands. Merlin downed the beer in three swallows. The motion stretched the pale column of his neck and made the muscles dance strangely beneath the skin. Even when the last of it was gone and the last drop of beer had been chased from his lips with the quick flick of his tongue, Arthur found he couldn’t glance away. 

“What?” Merlin asked. 

“You’re wearing my scarf.” Arthur said, scrounging around for some kind of explanation.  It was a weak one at best but the side of Merlin’s mouth quirked up. “I believe its my scarf now.” 

“Of course.”

“Does it still suit me? Now that you’ve recovered from your head injury?” Merlin asked, fiddling with the dark fabric wrapped around his neck. 

“There’s nothing wrong with my head.” Arthur grumbled. 

“That’s entirely debatable.” Gwaine quipped from the seat beside him. Arthur was quick to shove him from that seat. 

Merlin tossed his head back, laughter shaking his shoulders.

“I just meant, it makes you look like less of an idiot than usual.” Arthur insisted, trying to defend himself, but Merlin just laughed harder. 

“Sure you did.” Percy said just quiet enough that Arthur could pretend he hadn’t heard. 

Arthur settled into the peaceful moment and called for another round of beers. They sat together in silence as Arthur sipped at his drink and Merlin, still grinning a bit, watched the people around him, some sober, some too drunk to stand.

“I bet half the town is here after what happened this morning.” Merlin heard him say. He wasn’t able to fight back the shiver that skated down his spine at the thought of the events of that morning. It didn’t escape Arthur’s notice.

He leaned in close across the table and whispered, “She was a practicing witch, Merlin. She’d turned her back on heaven. You’re not like her.”

“But what if I am?” Merlin breathed, eyes raking over Arthur’s face, brows drawn tightly together, lips thinned with tension. “What if I’ve turned my back on heaven without even meaning to?”

He would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been staring but he saw the way Merlin’s lips parted slightly, breath coming a little faster. “I know you. You’re a good man. You wouldn’t deny God for a little earthly power.”

“I wasn’t talking about the magic.” Merlin said. Arthur pulled his eyes from Merlin’s lips to his blue eyes that were a lot darker than they had been a moment ago.

“What…” Arthur’s question trailed off, unasked, as he searched Merlin’s face. His eyes  seemed to catch again on Merlin’s mouth where he’d sucked his lower lip between his teeth. 

“What are you on about?” Arthur burst out suddenly, his voice much louder than it needed to be in the small space between them. “Stop being so melodramatic.” 

A few hours later, Arthur was well and truly drunk, which probably wasn’t the smartest idea with all that had been troubling him lately. He had the annoying habit of wanting to talk about his feelings when he was drunk and always with Merlin who was looking just as drunk, if not more so, across the table. 

Gwaine had given up stealing their money in dice about an hour ago, talking to Percy instead, who was considerably better at holding his drink, and leaving them to their own game. Arthur wasn’t sure when it had happened but sometime since then the two men had turned to watch he and Merlin battle it out. 

“Pockets feeling a little light there, Merlin?” Arthur smirked, rolling the dice around his half open palm. 

Merlin was examining the setup on the table with an intense gaze, chewing contemplatively on the edge of his bottom lip. His eyes flicked to his own small stack of coins, then to Arthur’s which was almost twice the size it had been when they’d started. Then he turned his narrowed eyes to Arthur’s face as he placed half his money on the table between them. 

“You’ll be down to lint when I’m through with you.” Merlin said, snatching the dice from Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur tossed his head back and laughed. The alcohol had seeped into his system long ago, washing away enough of his stress that he could laugh a little too loud and not be concerned about the scattered looks that were turned their way from around the room. “Because you’ve done such a good job with that so far.” He smiled slyly, matching Merlin’s bet.

He sunk back into his seat, sprawling out his legs beneath the table. Partly a show of bravado but mostly because it felt so good to just relax for the first time in a long time. His knee brushed against Merlin’s thigh, the brief touch warming him like the strike of lightening. 

Merlin jumped, the dice clattering out of his hand. They went skittering across the table and came to rest on two and five. It was all downhill from there. 

“An absolute comeback from the jaws of death.” Merlin announced dramatically, ignoring Arthur’s eye roll and not-so-subtle prompting to _just hand over the dice already_. “When all hope seemed lost, David rose up and slew Goliath.”

“Alright, Reverend. It’s my roll.” Arthur said but Merlin ignored him. 

“Rose up and stole all his money.”

“Merlin.”

“Foot’s on the other shoe now, isn’t it?”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Tell me Arthur, are your pockets feeling light?” 

Arthur smothered his laughter under a scowl and pried open Merlin’s fists to get the dice for his own roll. The other man put up a fight though and so they ended up squabbling over them in an awkward arm wrestle.  

“Game’s going well then?” Lancelot asked, stepping up to their table. Merlin let go of Arthur, letting his arm drop to the table with a resounding thud. Arthur rubbed at the sore spot on is elbow wallowing in his small victory as the others let out a resounding welcome for the newcomer. 

“Where have you been?” Percy asked not unkindly, sliding down on the bench so Lance could settle in the space between him and Merlin. 

“Yeah, what have you been doing all day?” Merlin asked, turning nearly sideways in his seat to question him. And was it really that necessary to be so eager to see him? Honestly, it’d been a day since they last saw each other.

“More like ‘who have you been doing all day?’”

“Gwaine!” Merlin squawked, and he had to lean over the table to smack the man on the arm. “A little decency.”

“Oh, I’m indecent?” Gwaine asked, making a dramatic spectacle of rolling his eyes and leaning over to pick a long piece of straw out of Lance’s hair. “Take a tumble in the hay, did you?”

Color swept across his cheeks and he opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could, Merlin slapped his hand down on the table with a thwack.

“Lance!” Merlin squawked with just as much scandalized disappointment before he nearly fell out of his seat cackling. 

  “Like you’re any better.” Percy said, turning his attention back to Gwaine once Merlin had righted himself. “You and Elena.”

“Elena is a lady.” Gwaine “I would never treat her with such indignity.”

“Fine. You and the barmaid.” Percy corrected himself. 

“You and the butcher’s daughter.” Arthur said with a tilt of his cup.

“You and the the baker’s daughter.” Merlin chimed in. 

“You and-”

“I hate you all.” Gwaine grumbled. 

The table erupted in riotous laughter. Arthur leaned over and draped his arm across Gwaine’s shoulders in a half hug in a gesture that was so characteristic of the other man. Gwaine shoved him away, not unkindly, and brushed off their taunting. 

“Are you going to finish your game or not?” He grumbled, draining his cup and lifting it high above his head to call for another. “I’ve got money on Merlin.”

Arthur arched a questioning brow at his opponent but Merlin was already staring back at him, challenge written in his eyes and the tiny upturn of his mouth. 

For the first time that night, Arthur felt a twist in his stomach he could only call apprehension. It couldn’t be anything else. He’d been so confident in his victory before. If he lost to Merlin now, he would never live it down. 

With one last appeal, Arthur rolled the dice and locked his eyes on Merlin’s face, unwilling to face the traitorous things as they clattered across the uneven table.

Merlin threw up his arms with a whoop and laughed triumphantly at the ceiling. He was beaming with pride. His face would split in two if he sustained that grin for any length of time. It was obvious Arthur’d lost, in the way Merlin celebrated, eyes crinkling around the edges and shining as they met Arthur’s triumphantly. He didn’t have to look at the dice to know, yet he couldn’t hold back the private smile that stretched his own lips as he watched Merlin scoop the pile of coins to his side of the table.

He finished off his beer and pushed himself to his feet. Merlin was on his feet a moment later, still grinning smugly at Arthur and swaying dangerously but managing to stay on his feet. “I should go home.”

“Yes, you should.” Arthur agreed, ready to turn away.

“Where’s home?” He slurred, tipping too far in a sway and landing back on the bench he’d just risen from. 

“You really are useless, aren't you?” Arthur grumbled, hauling him up roughly to resist winding his arm around his slender waist. 

Gwaine came over and offered to help Merlin find his way home, but Arthur waved him off. Gwaine was a nice enough guy, but there was something about him that just aggravated Arthur. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t quantify it, but whenever Gwaine was around he had the inexplicable urge to pull Merlin behind him and keep a good ten feet between them. They really were far too physically affectionate for two men. It was indecent, Arthur decided. Then he nodded because that was it. It was indecent the way Gwaine clung on to Merlin, like a close friend. Like a lover. 

Arthur shook the thought away and dragged Merlin through the lower town, back toward the house he shared with Gaius. The man in question was already asleep on a cot to the left of his workspace and for that, Arthur was grateful. He didn’t want to have to contend with that infamous disapproving frown that he was sure was world renowned by now. Getting drunk on a workday was hardly commendable. He could only imagine what his father was going to say when he heard. And he always heard. 

Pulling Merlin up the stairs as quietly as he could, Arthur struggled with his dead weight. Lucky for him, there was only a few steps to contend with before he pushed into Merlin’s unkempt mess of a bedroom and deposited him gently on the bed. He took a moment to catch his breath, taking a seat at Merlin’s feet. 

This was the first time he’d ever been in Merlin’s room. The thought surprised him, but no, after another quick survey of his memory he realized it was true. All the time they’d spent together had been in Arthur’s office, or walking around town, or watching night fall on the hills behind his home while they talked about everything under the moon. 

This was the first time he’d ever been in Merlin’s room. On his bed. The thought sent a little thrill through Arthur but he suppressed it before he could read into it. 

He was surprised to see the room so full of books. He’d never expected someone like Merlin to be so well read. Then again, he was training to be a physician. Sometimes he forgot just how skilled, how wise, how not-an-idiot Merlin actually was. It was nice to see he slept with books scattered about. The image made Arthur smile. 

Pushing to his feet, he went over to the shelf across the room, his eyes skimming carelessly over the titles. Trying, without meaning to, to learn whatever he could about his closest friend.

A sudden rustle caught his attention but he dismissed it, looking at the volumes on the shelf more closely. Merlin was probably just readjusting. 

Then there came a noise he couldn’t ignore. A drawn out moan filled the soft silence of the room and broke off leaving the silence rough and thick as Arthur froze. It wasn’t anything untoward, just the discontent of a man rising from unsatisfying sleep, but Arthur’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure it was about to break from his chest. 

“I should not have drunk so much.” Merlin mumbled from his place on the bed. He leaned up on his elbows, squinting at Arthur through the dark. Then after a moment, he blurted, “What are you doing here?”

“I only just brought you in.” Arthur said, voice thick despite his best efforts to the contrary. “I was just leaving.” 

The other man mumbled something unintelligible and collapsed back into the deep sleep he’d just risen from, leaving Arthur trying to calm his frantic heart and to scrub away the sound of Merlin’s moan that was playing again and again in his mind. He sat back down on the edge of Merlin’s bed, the thought of leaving making his limbs heavy. 

“I’m scared.” He heard the small voice break through the dark. Not asleep then. 

“I knew you were scared of the dark.” Arthur forced himself to tease. He couldn’t face the true implication of the words just yet. They were difficult to bear.

Merlin ignored him, knowing he knew what he meant, and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The witchfinder. He…He’s going to know. I heard a rumor that it only takes one look for him to know if you have magic.”

“That’d be a work of magic in itself. No one can know what’s in your heart after just one look.” Arthur said, his words feeling like a promise even though he was staring at his hands as he spoke them. 

“He’s a man of god. He might have the power to see one’s soul.” Merlin said quickly, reminding Arthur of a small child trying to win an argument. “If he sees mine…”

“If he sees your soul and thinks you anything less than a good man, then he must be blind.” The dark made it easier for him to speak. He didn’t know if he’d have the courage or whatever it took to say the words if he were face to face with Merlin. Still, even finding strength in the dark, it felt wrong to be so distant from Merlin when the other man was so clearly shaken. His voice was small in a way Arthur had never heard it before. It didn’t suit the man he knew. 

Arthur reached out and grasped for the closest connection he could make, his hand wrapping around Merlin’s ankle, fingers accidentally slipping under the hem of his trousers. Merlin jolted but didn’t pull away. 

“My soul is black. I just know it.”

Arthur spoke fiercely then, needing the words to be heard more than any of the others, “Then _you_ must be blind.”

“That night, in the woods, my magic…it rose up. I thought it was going to swallow me whole. I’ve never felt so good in all my life.” Arthur had to lean in to hear his words, barely more than an exhale. When they sunk in, his grip on Merlin’s leg tightened. 

“I thought the devil’s touch would feel like an intrusion. But all these feelings, the magic, the way I feel when…” Merlin let his words trial away, eyes flicking up to Arthur’s face. He sat up, and Arthur could barely see the silhouette of him. He wasn’t sure when he’d started holding his breath but he could feel it straining in his lungs now. “All these feeling aren’t intrusive, though. They’re coming from deep inside me.”

There was a thick beam of light shining through a sizable crack in the door that cut across Merlin’s face, showing lips gleaming and swollen like they’d been bitten and Arthur couldn’t pull his eyes away. All the air rushed out of him when Merlin’s hand curled around his. 

“You’re drunk.” Arthur tried to joke but his voice came out strained. 

Merlin’s fingers twisted around, forcing their way between his ankle and Arthur’s palm. Arthur didn’t dare move, unwilling to shift this strange air between them even though he knew he should. The pads of Merlin’s fingers were moving upward, tracing the straining veins on the tender skin of Arthur’s wrist. 

“How am I supposed to fight this?” Merlin breathed, pulling at Arthur’s wrist until his hand lay flat against Merlin’s chest. His grip was still tight around Arthur’s wrist, guiding his hand downward. “How am I supposed to fight this when it comes from right here?” 

Arthur’s hand was trapped low on Merlin’s stomach. The tip of his thumb accidentally brushed against the hem of Merlin’s trousers and the muscles jumped under his touch. He swallowed, trying in vain to bring back some of the moisture that fled his throat.

“I feel like I’m going to burn up from the inside if the pyre doesn’t get me first.”

He should have fled, or said something to break the strange moment Merlin had woven around them but he couldn’t move. All he could think about was the heat pooling low in his own stomach. Merlin wasn’t talking about magic anymore.

“I won’t let you burn.” Arthur said suddenly, swaying in close. He barely recognized his own voice, his words nearly a growl. He cleared his throat, trying to fend off the minute trembling that had poured into his limbs as he realized what he’d just said. He knew what he’d meant, and by the way Merlin sucked his bottom lip between his teeth he knew too. But this wasn’t a promise he could keep, not in the way his body wanted to keep it. So he clung to the only thing he could. The illusion of his ignorance.

He twisted in the other man’s grip and caught Merlin's hand, pulling both of them away from Merlin’s body. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He said, trying not to let his own disappointment and frustration color his voice. 

Merlin seemed to deflate at that. Arthur was glad for the sudden space between them, sucking in deep lungfuls of clear air and he could feel the warm haze pull back from his mind as Merlin pulled his hand out of Arthur’s grip and lay back down with a huge rush of air.

“Not even you can save me.”

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

“Oh, and Gaius said ‘don’t drink it all at once’” Merlin said, eyes widening in horror as he watched the man before him down the entire potion in three pulls. He was way too hung over to muster up the appropriate panic so he just said “I’m sure it’s fine” and stood back as the man closed the door on him. 

His head was heavy and rolling with a thick fog that made anything beyond breathing difficult. but while his mind was sluggish, his body was racing. It had been since the moment he woke with an ungodly headache and a mouth so fuzzy it felt as though he’d swallowed cotton. It wasn’t an unnatural reserve of energy, not matter how badly he wished it was. It was his magic, vibrating under his skin so forcefully he felt like his teeth were going to rattle out of his head.  It was becoming unbearable, demanding release he couldn’t give.

He dropped his head with a sigh and turned back to the busy shuffling of the market place. There were only two more medicines in his bag that he had to deliver, then he could crawl back under his covers and stay there for the next week. Well, he’d be lucky if Gaius let him have a few hours of peace, but that was hardly a reward for all this hard work so he stretched the truth a bit to hold onto what little motivation he had left. 

“Merlin!”  A familiar voice called, far too loud for Merlin’s throbbing head. Gwaine came crashing into his side a moment later, slinging his arm across his friend’s shoulders. “You look like hell.”

“Good to see you too.” Merlin grumbled, rubbing at his temples. 

Percival approached a moment later at much more reasonable pace, taking a huge bite out of an apple before waving hello. Merlin gave a halfhearted wave in return. Never before had he been so grateful for Percy’s reticence. 

“Did someone have a little too much fun last night?” Gwaine asked, ruffling Merlin’s hair playfully. He was dragged between the two of them, down the street and further into the throng of the marketplace. 

“I wouldn’t know.” Merlin sighed, “I remember lots of drinks, and dice, and you whining about Elena” A deep rumble of laughter from Percy earned a glare from Gwaine. “Then I remember waking up in my bed this morning with the worst headache of my life.”

“Ah, good. So you don’t remember how much money I owe you.” 

Leaning down closer to Merlin, Percy mock whispered, “I’d be happy to fill you in.” 

“Of course you would, you brute.” Gwaine pouted, turning his back on the two of them. He froze when his eyes came to rest on Elena, examining the jewelry at a stall across the way.

“Oh great, now he’s seen her.” Percy rolled his eyes, taking another loud bite of his apple. “Now he’ll spend all day going on about her but he won’t actually work up the nerve to go talk to her.” 

“I have nothing but nerve.” Gwaine puffed up. 

“Prove it.” Merlin urged, giving his shoulder a helpful little nudge. 

“Fine then. I will.” He said, straightening his coat. 

Percival chuckled as he watched his friend saunter over, but then Elena started giggling and falling all over herself at whatever Gwaine was saying and it wasn’t so funny anymore. So he turned his gaze on Merlin, eyeing him up and down for a moment before saying, “You look like hell.”

“I can always count on you not to mince words.” Merlin laughed. He was sure that if he looked half as bad as he felt, Percy would’ve been cringing by now. “I feel like hell as well. I won’t be staying out any longer than I have to.” 

“That’s too bad.” Percy said, finishing his apple before he looked back at Merlin to elaborate. “Some of us volunteered to help Arthur finish laying the floor of that house he’s fixing up.” 

“Volunteered?” Merlin raised a skeptical brow and Percy smiled. 

“Well. He did promise lunch. You should come.” 

“Is everyone going?” He asked, weighing the invitation against his roaring headache.

“Everyone but Elyan. How is he, by the way?”

Merlin brightened a bit, glad to be able to give some good news about their friend. “He’s doing a lot better. The infection is starting to clear. I’m sure he’d like a visit. You’d have to go quickly, though. Gaius is meeting with the council at Judge Pendragon’s so he’ll be out for a while.” 

“Alright. I’ll see him before I go.” 

Merlin nodded and glanced over to see how Gwaine was fairing with his lady. He had a huge grin plastered across his face as he walked back toward them. Merlin caught sight of Elena retreating in the other direction, hand fluttering around the new necklace at her neck. 

“You should come.” Percy repeated, just as Gwaine reached them. 

“Where should he come?” Gwaine asked, looking between them.

“To help with the floor.” 

Gwaine’s eyes lit up, smile turning into something mischievous and wicked. “Yeah, you should come. Arthur’ll be there.” He said, giving his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle. 

Merlin sputtered away his dignity. When he finally managed to form a sentence, it was a screeching, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He could feel his blush burning up to the tip of his ears and he wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock but Percival was laughing and Gwaine just gave him a _look_.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Merlin tried to laugh but it came out a strangled sound. 

Gwaine shook his head, slinging his arm over Merlin’s shoulder’s and leading him back down the road. “Whatever you say, Merlin.”

 

Arthur had been pounding this same nail into the floor for the last ten minutes, gaze trapped on the woolen blanket he’d pinned up in the doorframe to fight off some of the chill. He watched it flap in the breeze, reveling a brief flash of the cloudless sky and seemingly endless fields before swinging shut and blocking his view again. He didn’t see the door though, or feel the hammer as it knocked uselessly against the floor.  

His mind lingered in Merlin’s bedroom. The brief flashes of the sky were Merlin’s eyes blinking owlishly in the dark. Every gust of cool wind that broke into the house was Merlin’s fingers creeping up his neck and sneaking into the collar of his shirt. The long handle of the hammer in his hands was-

“I’m going to pop back into town and fetch some lunch for when the others arrive.” 

“Jesus Christ Guinevere!” Arthur shouted, bolting to his feet. Hammer clattering to the floor guiltily. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

“Sneak up?” Gwen balked in the doorway, hands frozen in the middle of tying the string of her cloak. “Every single floorboard in this house creaks, Arthur. I couldn’t sneak up on you if I wanted to.”

Arthur blew out a huge breath to steady himself. His heart was still pounding in his chest, breath coming in short bursts. “Where are you going?”

“Into town. To get lunch. Like I said.” She said pointedly, knotting her cloak with jerky movements. 

After waking up to a raging headache from drinking too much the night before, Gwen refused to speak to him, angry for some reason Arthur couldn’t begin to guess at in his state. She had been snappish all day since. He really hoped it wasn’t about that stupid scarf. “What’s the matter?”

She didn’t look like she was going to answer him. She didn’t even look away from the clasp of her cloak actually. It was tangled and she tugged at it, frustration mounting. She practically hissed under her breath, “Now is not the time.”

“Well you’ve been avoiding me all day.” 

She turned her glaring eyes onto his questioning ones. “You came home late last night.” 

Arthur leaned back. It was hardly the first time he’d had a later night than he’d expected. Granted, most of the time that could be attributed to work he had to finish. 

His cluelessness only seemed to make her angrier. She struggled with her cloak for a moment before she gave a final useless yank. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t quite raised, but it was the closest he had ever heard, “I spent two nights worried sick, while you were running around the woods, waiting for you to come home and the second day you’re back you don’t even bother to let me know you’ll be home late. It was thoughtless, Arthur, and it’s obvious you don’t care.”

“I’m sorry.” He said unable to come up with something better to say. She just sighed and closed her eyes. Arthur took the opportunity and approached her. He took the clasp of her cloak in his hands gently, working at the knot until it was loose. 

“I know we haven’t been on solid ground for a long time, Arthur, but I’m trying. I try so hard to make this feel like a marriage.” All the anger had drained from her as she watched him tie a delicate knot in her cloak. “But sometimes it feels like we’re just living together. It feels like we’re just pretending to be a couple for the sake of propriety.”

Arthur straightened the fabric on her shoulders as her words sunk in. It felt strange to have her voice the thoughts he’d had for so long. Hearing them out loud was oddly vindicating. It was a relief to finally admit it, but even though Gwen had said it first, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to agree out loud. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to argue, to fight and swear that they loved just as deeply as they always had. He could tell by the way her large brown eyes searched his. 

He picked off an imaginary piece of dust, trying to will himself to hold her gaze and promise her that it’s all going to work out but his eyes caught on a stray piece of straw poking out from under her hood. He caught it between two fingers, freeing it from the fabric gently. 

Gwen sighed at his silence and pushed past him, out the front doorway. Arthur watched her go, twirling the piece of straw between a thumb and a forefinger.

 

Percival had left shortly to visit with Elyan while Gwaine followed Merlin around as he finished his deliveries. The last was to a good friend Freya. They chatted a bit before he gave her the medicine. She took a sleeping drought for insomnia which Gaius brewed weekly, his most consistent patient. That was actually how she and Merlin had met, when Gaius passed on the responsibility of delivering medicine around town. 

Merlin didn’t stay as long as he would’ve liked but she smiled anyway, understanding.

“I’ll see you next week.” He waved as he walked down the path.

“Maybe.” She said, as she closed the door behind her.  Her response was quiet, as always, and he didn’t think anything of the strange remark.

With his work finished Merlin set a slow pace for Arthur’s land, about five miles out of town, with Gwaine in tow. When they pushed past the blanket covering the door of the dilapidated house, they found Arthur in the front room, dripping with sweat and panting. He was ripping up the floorboards with sharp explosions of movement and the sounds of weathered wood wrenching and creaking as it was torn up. He spared them a glance before diving back into the floorboards with the business end of his crowbar. 

“I thought we were putting _in_ the floor.” Gwaine said loud enough to be heard over the ruckus Arthur was making. 

“We have to take out the old floor first.” Arthur panted, tossing his newest acquisition into the growing pile of planks on the other side of the room. Merlin and Gwaine stepped aside as Percy came inside, going straight for the pile of planks. He grabbed a large armful and disappeared through the door again. 

Gwaine’s eyes followed him as he left the room but he spoke to Arthur. “What’s wrong with the old floor? It looks fine to me.”

“Guinevere says it creaks.” Arthur practically growled, shoving the crowbar back into the floor with enough force to send vibrations up Merlin’s legs.

Gwaine cocked his head, ready to reply but Gwen popped into the room before he could speak. Merlin’s eyes strayed to Arthur but he just gripped the crowbar tighter and pointed did not look at his wife. 

“Gwen.” Gwaine said fondly, pulling her into a hug and planting a kiss on her cheek like he hadn’t seen her in ages. 

“Hello boys.” She was smiling as she hugged him back. “Alright, out of those coats. I’ll put them in the other room.” 

Gwaine handed his over and wandered over to where Percy was leaning against a half crumbled wall across the room. Gwen turned her attention to Merlin.

“I hope it’s alright I came uninvited.” Merlin said, shrugging out of his coat and placing it gently in her waiting arms. 

Her smile stayed in place as her brows drew together a bit. The overall look was one of polite confusion but it was always like that with Gwen. Polite fondness, polite teasing, polite anger. She really was too sweet for her own good and it made a small weight of guilt settle in Merlin’s chest. Her gaze flickered to Arthur for a moment, who was back to work tearing at the floor. 

“You weren’t invited…? Oh, well! It’s hardly like it’s a party.” She gave a little laugh and her eyes dropped to the bundle in her arms. “I better put these up. Get them out of the way of the work.”

Merlin offered her a smile and a nod. She started to turn away but her eye caught on something below his chin and stayed locked there for a long moment. 

“What is it?” He asked a little nervously, glancing down but there was nothing on his shirt. 

“Oh, nothing.” She gave herself a little shake and drew her eyes back up to his. The smile she gave him felt more brittle than before. “I can take your scarf as well.”

“That’s alright.”

He’d been working to drown out the insistent pounding noise from a few feet away. He didn’t realize how successful he’d been until the sound suddenly stopped and the resulting silence made his ears ring. Looking around uncertainly, he saw Percy and Gwaine absorbed in studying the tools held idly in their hands. Arthur’s jaw was tense, flexing as he ground his teeth. He was holding the crowbar loosely, seemingly fascinated with the wood grain on the floorboards. 

Turning back to Gwen gave him no hope for finding an answer there either. She just stood there, politely fuming with a white knuckle grip on the coats in her hands. 

“It’s just a bit nippy in here.” He added dumbly, hoping his obvious ignorance to the cause of the sudden suffocating tension would be enough to save him.

“Fine.” Gwen said, tight lipped. She spun on her heel and marched through the door to the other room. 

Merlin looked back to the others for help or at least an explanation but Percy was eyeing the door Gwen had just stormed through. All Gwaine could offer was a shrug. Arthur blew out a huge breath of air and pushed himself to his feet. He followed after her slowly, every movement deliberate and reluctant. 

They could hear the timbre of their voices clearly enough but the words were muffled as Arthur’s voice, low and even, seemed to try to calm Gwen’s rising voice. 

“You shouldn’t do that.” Merlin scolded, marching over and pulling at Gwaine’s shoulder to drag him and his ear away from the wall. 

“Come on.” Gwaine prodded, smirk curling his features into the mischievous face Merlin was so familiar with. “You know you’re curious.” 

Percy had already pressed his ear to the wall and after Gwaine returned to his place, Merlin’s resolve wavered. 

“It’s not decent.” Merlin argued feebly but his curiosity won out when Gwaine rolled his eyes and said, “Who cares?” 

“You’re shameless.” He grumbled, leaning closer to the wall. Gwaine didn’t answer, just smirked wider and slapped Merlin’s shoulder. 

His body was tense as the skin of his ear touched the wall, as though Arthur was going to charge into the room any moment and catch them eavesdropping like children. He could just barely make out the words, muffled though they were. 

“Why are you still angry about this?”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m the one being unreasonable. Why is he still wearing that damn scarf!”

“They’re arguing about me?” Merlin burst, reeling away from the wall in shock. He got a sharp shush from Percy and a shallow jab to the ribs from Gwaine before the three of them went back to listening.

“You’re the one always going on about how people should be more charitable to each other.”

“That’s not the point-”

“No, it is! It was cold Guinevere. The man was about to shiver out of his boots, so I gave him the scarf. I forgot that you made it but it was cold and he needed it more than I did. He’s the size of a twig. I don’t think Gaius is feeding him enough-”

“Oh my goodness.”

“What?”

“Never in my life have I heard a man worry so much about another. You don’t even realize it do you? How much you go on about him when no one else is around?”

“Wha-”

“Elyan’s been in a sickbed for days and you haven’t asked after him once.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re worried about your brother so you’re taking it out on anyone you can? Merlin’s the last person you should be angry with. He’s been working so hard with Gaius to make sure Elyan’s alright-”

“I’m not angry with Merlin! I’m angry with you!”

“Because I don’t care enough about your brother? Even though I asked after him when Percy arrived? Because I’m not driving myself mad with worry even though I have the promise of the best physician in Massachusetts that he’ll be alright in a few days?”

“You spoke with Gaius about Elyan?”

“Of course I did. I spoke to Gaius, and Merlin, and Percy and my father-”

“I get it…But why haven’t you gone to see him?” 

“I did. Last night.” 

“That’s why you were late…”

“…Yes.”

“Oh Arthur. I’ve been absolutely dreadful to you haven’t I?”

“It’s nothing I don’t deserve.” 

Merlin couldn’t listen any longer. He stepped away and realized that Gwaine and Percy hadn’t been listening for a long time. He felt the weight of guilt move from his chest to low in his stomach as he thought of the private moment he’d just intruded on and…other things. He’d had fragments of memories floating around his head from the night before. Flashes of Arthur poking around his bedroom, blue eyes almost black in the dark, warm hands. Arthur must’ve come by to visit Elyan and popped in to check in on Merlin in his drunken state. A kind gesture of friendship Merlin’s drunken mind had twisted into something entirely different that had to have been a dream. Having a rational explanation for it all was a good thing. He knew better than to believe that in any sane world the electric feeling of Arthur’s hand teasing at the waist of his trousers could be real. 

He’d let his imagination get away from him last night. Like he just had when his heart swelled into his throat with hope that Gwen and Arthur were actually fighting about the scarf and all the affection behind the gesture Merlin must have built up in his mind. Not that he wanted Gwen and Arthur to fight but yes he sort of did. And as horrible as that made him feel, hearing them make up felt worse. 

He didn’t know how he would ever look Gwen in the face again. Part of him wanted to take off the scarf and throw it in the embers glowing in the hearth but he knew it would only prove to Gwen and Arthur-whenever they decided to emerge-that he’d been listening. So he kept it on and every time it brushed against his skin, it got a little heavier around his neck.

When Arthur emerged from the other room, Gwen was not with him. Merlin dove for anything resembling a tool and tried his best to look as though he’d been at work the whole time. Gwaine and Percy handled it much more coolly, collecting a large pile of loose planks and carrying them outside. Merlin, of course, had scooped up a hammer and was trying his best to pull out a floorboard as he’d seen Arthur doing so easily earlier but it barely gave a little squeak and stayed stubbornly in place. 

Sauntering over, Arthur watched Merlin work for a moment before he just snorted and shook his head.

Merlin gritted his teeth, words punctuated by furious tugging. “You laugh now. Just you wait. I’ll have. This out. Before you even. Know. What-” The board slipped loose suddenly and he went tumbling backward, hammer and wood falling on top of him as he sprawled backward across the floor. 

“Hit me?” Arthur asked then dissolved into a fit of laughter so deep and genuine Merlin couldn’t find it in him to be mad. 

“I’m fine, by the way.” Merlin grumbled, his attempts at mock anger diffused by the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He sat up, dusting himself off delicately as Arthur stooped and picked up the hammer for him. 

Merlin’s appreciation died on his lips when Arthur handed it to him very softly and said, “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

“How about I hurt you instead?” Merlin snapped, yanking the tool from his hand and going back to his work. 

Arthur was still chuckling when he took up a crowbar and started working beside Merlin without another word. 

Gwaine pushed inside a few minutes later, stamping his feet and trying to blow warmth back into his frozen fingertips. “We should use some of this old wood to rebuild the fire.” 

“Have at it.” Arthur said, waving vaguely in the direction of the fireplace. 

It took a while for the room to warm up, but when it did, Merlin could feel some of the tension bleeding away. Arthur seemed to relax into the warmth and the steady pace of work they set. The only sounds were the rhythmic noises of their work and the random crackling of the fire. Merlin almost would’ve enjoyed it if he could manage to go more than a few minutes without hurting himself. 

“Ow!” He yelped, shaking out the fingers he’d just accidentally smashed under the weight of the hammer again. 

“Alright, Merlin?” Gwaine asked, not even bothering to look up anymore. 

“Fine.” Merlin groaned, holding his abused hand to his chest. 

Arthur’s shoulders were shaking with laughter, amusement shining in his eyes as he looked over. “Sure you know how to use that thing?”

“As a matter of fact I do. Care for a demonstration?” Merlin threatened, taking the hammer more tightly in his grip to fend off Arthur’s enjoyment of his misery. He hadn’t expected to be quite so effective though. Arthur’s smile dropped instantly, eyes wide with horror, face burning up to his hair a red that Merlin had never seen on a human being before. Prat Red. 

Merlin considered asking what was wrong but Arthur had turned back to his work so suddenly, and was focusing on it now with such intensity, he doubted he’d get an answer.

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

The four of them dug into lunch the moment Gwen set it between them. 

“Where’s Lancelot?” She asked lightly, glancing around as if she would find him lurking in the corners of the room.

“He’s outside somewhere.” Arthur said, waving a vague hand toward the door. “In the barn, I think.”

“I’ll just go and fetch him then, shall I?” Gwen said. She disappeared further into the house for a moment before emerging with a cloak tossed over her shoulders and heading for the front door. 

Merlin noticed Arthur’s eyes follow her across the room and linger on the door even after she’d gone. He forced himself to look away and set his plate on the floor, not as hungry as he had been before. 

Gwen and Lance appeared in the doorway a minute later, both flushed deep red from the cold. She took his coat and pushed a plate into his hands. 

“There you are. Eat up now.” She smiled, rubbing gentle circles into his arm. He looked like he was going to reply but then Gwaine pulled her into a conversation about how good the cooking was, and Lance leaned back against the wall to enjoy it in silence.

Merlin turned his attention back to the others to find them chatting lightly. 

“Oh, how’s Lamia?” Gwen asked. 

Percy’s smile spread across his face slowly but brightly. “Ready to burst.” 

“I haven’t been around to see her in a while.” She grimaced. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“Nor me.” Merlin chimed in drawing a small smile from her. “That could be due to the fact that I’m her physician.”

“She’s nine months pregnant,” Percival tried to reassure them, “She doesn’t like anyone.”

“Oh hush now. You must be terribly excited. Your first child.” Merlin could see the bittersweet longing in Gwen’s look as she listened to Percy tell them all about how difficult it will be to look after a baby. 

“You’re not in it alone.” Gwen promised, placing a hand on his arm. Her smile warmed at the thought. “Whatever you and Lamia need, we would all be happy to help. Wouldn’t we?” She looked around and frowned at the uncomfortable shifting and grimaces from the other men. 

“Of course.” Lance broke the uncomfortable silence, earning a soft smile from Gwen that was so full of affection it would’ve matched a beaming grin. 

“Whatever you need.” Merlin nodded. He hadn’t really meant the denial but Percy knew that. The taller man was laughing at them all, out of Gwen’s line of sight of course, at how easily they were all cowed into bending to the will of this small woman. However small she was, her glare got Arthur to agree and a sharp elbow to the ribs got Gwaine to agree after a fit of coughing.

“And I’ll be sure to return the favor when the time comes.” Percy offered, giving Gwen a sincere smile.

Arthur pushed away from the wall abruptly. After the surprise faded and Arthur sauntered across the room, the others resumed their chatting.

“That might be sooner than you’d think.” Gwen said, “Elyan’s coming to stay with us until he recovers. God knows that man can be as bad as a babe when he’s in the mood to be.”

It was a bit unexpected to see Arthur wander over to stand beside Lance who kept a little ways from the group. The two of them had been drifting apart recently and Lance seemed more aware of that than anyone. His eyes were wide but in a way that he was trying to conceal his surprise. Pretty ineffectively, Merlin thought from his place just far enough away to be considered an onlooker. But then, Lance had never been a very good liar. 

“The house is coming along nicely.” Lance offered to break the silence between the two of them.

“Yes. I think so. We’ll be able to move in soon.” Arthur smiled, glancing around. “It’s always seemed a bit too big for just Gwen and I though.” 

Lance took a deep breath, dragging his eyes-with what seemed to be a great effort-from the floor to meet Arthur’s eyes and smiled shakily. “You could have children.” He said, looking sick as he forced the words out. 

“Yes. I suppose we could. We’ve been married long enough.”

Merlin never would’ve noticed it if he hadn’t been staring so hard but Lance flinched, just barely perceptibly at Arthur’s words. 

“It feels like we’ve been married for ages but it’s only been a few years.” Arthur went on, pushing around the food on his plate with a finger. “But I guess time doesn’t really matter when you make a vow to someone.” 

Merlin inched a little closer. He was intrigued by this strange conversation between this unlikely pair. There had to be something he was missing, though. Lance was staring at the floor, unable to bring himself to even look at Arthur. And Arthur just looked like a prat trying to come off as wise and whatnot. 

“What do you think, Lance? Do you think vows fade over time? Do you think there’s ever a time to break a vow?” 

“No.” The single syllable was hushed, and it seemed to cost Lance a great deal to voice it. 

“Me neither.” Arthur sighed. All the superiority that had seemed to hold him up a moment ago faded out and left him weary. “It can be tempting though.” 

Lance’s head snapped up as he looked at Arthur. Merlin would’ve expected the sudden movement to prelude anger or disgust at what Arthur had just confessed but it didn’t. Lance just looked pleading.

“A good man always keeps his word, doesn’t betray his friends or god.” Lance said quietly and Merlin leaned in to catch the rest of their words. Lance was nearly hanging his head now, shame so clear in his face Merlin could hardly stand to look at him. Arthur wasn’t looking at him either, his eyes had strayed to land on Merlin. 

“Do you think god has it in him to forgive a man even when he’s not good?” Arthur asked, seeming less like he was trying to console a friend and more like he was grasping at the answer for himself. 

“No.” 

“Neither do I.” Arthur sighed and pushed away from the wall. He handed his plate over to Gwaine to finish it off and pushed past the thick blanket covering the door.

The overheard conversation left Merlin feeling strangely hollow. He knew better than to believe that the words were directed at him but he couldn’t shake them from where they’d burrowed into his bones. 

He didn’t have any idea what the conversation had really been about or who came away with the upper hand but it might as well have been about him and his magic. His magic had been buzzing insistently under his skin all day. Even Leon arriving a few minutes later didn’t strike enough fear in him to quiet it. Leon had come from his meeting with Uther and other powerful men of the town, the same meeting Gaius had been obligated to attend, with news of Uther’s orders to begin preliminary investigations to prepare for the Witchfinder’s arrival. Even learning of the church making preparations for a serious investigation into witchcraft did nothing to deter Merlin from needing desperately to work off some of the tension his magic was building up inside him. It made him itchy, made him feel too big for his skin and Merlin was ready to start peeling it away to get some relief.

 

Uther almost never spoke of Ygraine so Arthur never would’ve known if he hadn’t found her journal buried in the bottom of his father’s desk in his study last year. 

His parents came to Camelot together when Arthur was sixteen and old enough to manage the estate in England with the help of his uncle Agravaine. He remembered thinking they were crazy at the time. Who would want to spend two months on a ship, making a dangerous trip to an even more dangerous land, just to settle in the middle of savage country. The adventure called to him from somewhere deep in him but he’d pushed it away then because it was a boyish sentiment, not that of a proper english gentleman that he tried so hard to be.

He remembered that his father wanted Ygraine to stay behind. Arthur spent his nights reading her journal by the light of a single candle after Gwen had gone to sleep. His mother knew at the time that she should stay with her children, that the new world was hardly the place for a lady, but she had always dreamed of seeing the world, of crossing oceans, and breaking new ground with her own hands. 

The words of the woman he’d read reminded him of Morgana in a small way, the willful, untamable spirit that wasn’t decent for a woman but endeared him to her anyway. But beyond that, he never would’ve known that so many of his mother’s thoughts were aligned with his. He’d known her as child knows a mother. She was a glowing golden phantom of his memory, an eternal smile, a comforting embrace. But as he read her private journal, she became a friend and Arthur mourned her loss all over again in those quiet hours. He mourned the mother he lost and the woman he never really got the chance to know. 

Ygraine had to fight for her place at her husband’s side on the expedition but in the end, he had wanted to part from her even less than she wanted to be away from him. So they went to the new world together.

Arthur learned, through the hastily scrawled words, that they landed in Boston, which Ygraine found enchanting, but Uther insisted on pressing northwest. He spoke of freedom and gold in ways that Arthur recognized of his father even now. The pair had come across a small village, nearly ten houses and a small church, that called itself Camelot. 

The journal hadn’t said much about how Uther came to find himself in a position of authority but Arthur had heard that story enough for a lifetime. He was much more interested in the small tales his mother weaved as she discovered their new home. She wrote of people that were familiar to him, but he’d never known they’d been friends of his mother. She told of the sounds of nature that wrapped around her and we’re nearly as deafening as the sounds of her home in London. He saw the forest for the first time through new eyes as his mother explored deeper and deeper into the land they had planted themselves in.

That’s when he’d learned of the house.

Arthur had come to the Massachusetts Bay Colony a year after his parents had departed, after the news of his mother’s sickness reached him. By the time he’d arrived, stepping foot on a new continent for the first time in his life, his mother had already passed. He found his father living in a quaint home among the other houses in the small town of Camelot.

He’d never known that that wasn’t the house his mother called home when she lived. His father hadn’t spoken a word of the creaky house at the edge of the trees about five miles from the center of town. Instead he learned of it on his own, sitting with his mother in her words as his father worked diligently to erect their new home. It’d been built quick, and a little crooked, but it kept them out of the cold that swept the land nearly the moment the last nail was in place. 

Ygraine had loved that house. She wrote about it often, how it groaned under a strong wind, and the windows weren’t quite at the same height-Uther was hardly a builder-but it was dear to her anyway because it had been raised from nothing by the hands of the man she loved. She wrote once that she couldn’t wait for Arthur and Morgana to see it, to sit at their table and dine with them in their silly, wonderful little house. That night Arthur had pushed up from his own table and rushed out to find it. He couldn’t bear to be a stranger to it any longer. It had taken him hours, because his mother never did say in which direction it was five miles out and he was stumbling around in the dark. He’d left in too much of a rush to remember a lantern, too full to bursting with emotion to have any sense.

It’d looked exactly as she’d described. He’d known that night, staring at it reverently in the dark that this was his home. This was were he’d wanted to grow old with the person he loved, where he’d wanted generations of his family to live and die because this was, before anything else, Ygraine’s.

It didn’t matter that Uther was angry when he’d found out that Arthur had taken the journal, had intentions of taking the now abandoned house. He wouldn’t be swayed, and Uther soon relented, but he resolutely never spoke of it again. 

Arthur was jolted from his thoughts as a new light, warmer than the moonlight he’d been using, washed over him. Glancing up, he saw it was just Merlin carrying a lantern, giving him a smile that could’ve been a grimace. 

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, coming to stand beside Arthur. He turned his gaze to the fields stretching out before them so Arthur could choose to ignore him if he wanted. 

Arthur appreciated it but he spoke anyway, glad to be dragged out of his own melancholy thoughts. “Fine.” 

Merlin nodded and didn’t speak for several minutes. Warmth radiated into him where their arms brushed. 

He was caught, attention ripped between the house he’d been considering in the cold for the better part of an hour, and the overwhelming presence of Merlin beside him. He was trying so hard not to think of anything at all, to push away the aching absence of his mother that had settled itself in him without him noticing some time ago, but also to forget that it was Merlin beside him and the memories he had of the night before, soft and blurred by alcohol. 

There was no forgetting it though, not for him anyway. Just the thought of what didn’t happen between them less than twenty four hours ago was making Arthur’s muscles tight with shivery tension. All his focus, despite his best efforts, was focused on that single point of contact between them, the sound of Merlin’s breath, Merlin’s feet shuffling mutely in the dirt. He was trapped in his awareness of him, just like he’d been all day. 

“I thought you like the house because it was creaky and lopsided and whatnot.” Merlin said. Arthur could hear the question in his voice but couldn't find what the question was, so he stayed silent, eyes fixed on the horizon even as Merlin’s weighed on him. “You told me about it once. Said something about knowing a house has character when the floor slants one way and the roof slants another. I mean, you were joking but I always thought it meant something to you. Was I mistaken?” 

Arthur let his eyes slipped closed as he sucked in a huge breath. “No you were right.” 

“Then why are you changing it now?”

“It’s about more than just what I want. Guinevere doesn’t want to raise children in a house that’s about to ‘tumble in on itself’.” Merlin just nodded and kept his heavy eyes on Arthur as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and shoved his hands in his pockets. Their arms were touching nearly from shoulder to wrist now. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s about to tumble in to me.” Merlin murmured. 

“Me neither.” Arthur said with a twist of his lips that should’ve been a smile but just felt sad, even to himself. 

“Does Gwen know what it means to you?”

“No.” Arthur sighed, wondering when he’d revealed how much it did mean to him to Merlin. “But that’s not what matters.” 

“I think it is.” 

Arthur let out a little exasperated laugh at the man’s sheer stubbornness, even in the face of something he didn’t fully understand. “Would you really want to spend the rest of your life in this house?”

They both considered the crooked house. It was wider than it was tall making it seem like a crouching beast. It was hardly threatening though. The tilted roof gave the whole thing the impression that the beast was about to fall over. Merlin smiled suddenly, laugh coming out in ghosting breaths as he must’ve realized this. 

His smile shrunk though, when his eyes met Arthur’s, fading naturally as he considered the question posed to him and Arthur waited for his answer. 

“I would.”

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Aredian thundered into town on his horse like harbinger of doom. It was all very dramatic. Arthur had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His father was standing beside him, grim smile of approval twisting his features. 

The dust had barely settled before the minister swung off the horse in a single fluid motion, cloak fluttering around him in what seemed to be a deliberate flourish. 

“Aredian, old friend.” Uther said, stepping forward to shake hands with the man.

He nodded, not even bothering with a polite smile. He extricated his hand from Uther’s grip and turned his gaze on Arthur.

“Reverend.” Arthur nodded after a moment. His voice was quieter than he’d intended. He knew better than to fear this man, but he couldn’t stop the sudden whisper of panic that was wrapping around his bones as those dark eyes burned into him. 

“You must be Arthur.” 

“I must be.” Arthur answered, glancing over to Uther. His father was examining the conversation with the same guarded curiosity that Arthur himself felt. When he turned back to Aredian, he nearly jumped. The minister was closing the distance between them, head cocked and eyes narrowed as he examined Arthur from head to toe. 

It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop the thrill of fear that shot through him. The conversation he’d had with Merlin just a few nights ago played out in his mind, and Arthur felt like he was being dissected, layers of skin and muscles dragged aside as Aredian’s eyes searched for his soul. He wanted so badly to step away, to look away, but he refused. Maybe it was his pride, or just fear that held him in place, but Aredian suddenly smirked like he’d just solved a particularly difficult puzzle.

“I believe I was promised a meal.” Aredian shattered the silence, looking back at Uther with a shallow smile. 

“That you were.” Uther’s smile lost its confusion but he was still looking between Arthur and Aredian like there was something he was missing. Arthur knew the feeling. “This way.” 

He followed a little ways back as his father led Aredian into town, glad he wasn’t included in the amiable chatting. He was in a sour enough mood. Gwen had gone from not speaking to him to being alarmingly attentive. She’d made him breakfast and then delivered it to him in bed which would’ve been nice any other time but she wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

She’d apologized probably a thousand times in the next hour, saying Lance had told her and that she was so sorry, that she never meant to hurt him. 

“It’s just a house Guinevere.” Arthur had tried to calm her as he dressed for church but he could tell his words hadn’t been the right ones because she froze, eyes wide. 

“What?” was all she’d said.

He’d clasped his belt quickly and turned to face her fully then. “What were you talking about?”

“What…the house! Obviously!”

“Right.” He nodded then, even more confused than he had been before. She just waved her hands around frantically and fled the room in a flurry of skirts.

She hadn’t looked at him since then. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, her fickle moods. The morning was ruined by wondering what in god’s name was going on with her. On top of that, he had been forced to sit through a less-than-rousing sermon from Reverend Monmouth about the evils of temptation. Arthur had only been half listening, of course, mind swirling with his own musings about temptation. His thoughts and eyes wandered to Merlin, who he saw was trying not to fall asleep on Gaius’s shoulder in the back row of the pews.

Geoffrey spoke so passionately about the siren call of power and other temptations, like he thought he could cure the town of witchcraft with his words alone. Maybe he was hoping he could accomplish it before Aredian showed up and spare everyone the unpleasantness. 

No such luck it seemed. Up ahead, Uther and Aredian were discussing their suspicions about how witchcraft had come to grip the people of Camelot, but Arthur ignored them as well. He was less concerned with how it happened and more with how to make it stop without anyone else getting hurt. 

He was so tired. After mass, Arthur and Leon had gone door to door asking people mindless questions about if they’d seen anything suspicious as of late, or if they ever doubted the holiness of God. Arthur knew it was a waste of time. No one would admit anything for fear of getting involved but he was forced to do his duty anyway. Now that night had fallen it felt like he could fall into bed and not rise for days. The last thing he wanted to do was sit through dinner and listen to Aredian and Uther discuss how evil magic was, powerless to say a word against them. He wanted even less to hear the way Gwen and Morgana clucked like hens when they got together, leaving only Mordred for him to talk to.

When the three of them arrived at Uther’s home, Arthur dismissed himself. Aredian insisted on caring for his horse himself, an uncharacteristically warm gesture for such a cold man. Arthur made it inside to see the other dinner guests had already arrived and found himself a seat. 

Arthur slumped down low in his chair, indulging for the few precious moments where his father was out of sight and couldn’t reprimand him for it. At least he had the foresight to pour himself a drink before he settled in. Morgana voice was loud, which was hardly out of the ordinary, and she was showing no quarrels over telling the tale of how the baker, Mary Collins, had spilled flour on her favorite dress and ruined it to Gwen, who for once didn’t look in good enough spirits to feign interest. Mordred was nodding along at all the important moments looking for all the world like Morgana’s personal tragedy was the height of his interest. Maybe it was. 

Arthur was almost ready to feign illness and sneak off to find better company when Uther pushed through the door, an imposing looking Aredian on his heels and just after them Reverend Monmouth, an unexpected addition. Too late now, Arthur thought shoving to his feet.

Uther ushered them all to the table then, unwilling to stand the small talk any longer. He settled in his seat at the end of the table only pausing in his discussion with Aredian long enough to look pointedly at Guinevere, who scurried off into the kitchen to start serving dinner. Arthur considered helping her, but his father never would’ve allowed for that. Woman’s work, he would’ve said. Even though the trays Guinevere set before them looked heavy, even for him. Arthur tried to catch Morgana’s eye and get her to help but she had gotten herself too wrapped up in a conversation with the others to notice. Aredian seemed particularly interested and Uther proud when she started stoically gushing about how important it is and how dedicated she was to eradicating sorcery. Arthur didn’t know what had gotten into her but he was fairly certain that she was little more than apathetic toward sorcery a week ago. He didn’t know what changed her mind but he didn’t really care enough to find out either.

“Sorcery can corrupt even the purest souls.” Aredian nodded, seeming to agree with something Morgana had just said that Arthur had purposefully ignored. “These witches could be anyone. 

His answer seemed to amuse her, if the smirk curling her lips was anything to go by, “We do have two living witnesses who claim to have seen the witches at work. Surely that will be enough to identify them?”

“The eyes of men cannot always be trusted. I will interview them but to take their word as the unquestionable truth would be an injustice.” 

“Understandable. Especially considering one of the men was badly injured. It is possible the trauma has distorted his memory.” Uther said, nodding along sagely. 

“Merlin says Elyan will be better soon. That he just needs to rest.” Guinevere spoke up. Despite the conviction in her tone, her eyes stayed locked on her plate. 

“That can only be believed to an extent though, can’t it? He is only the physician’s apprentice after all.” Morgana speculated. “And wouldn’t that be the perfect position in which to distort the flow of information.” 

“He wouldn’t keep Elyan sick if that’s what you’re implying.” Guinevere said, anger giving her the resolve to meet Morgana’s eye. 

“No. Certainly not. I only meant a man in his position has a considerable amount of power of this entire situation. Not that I was accusing him of anything.” Arthur watched Morgana as she tried to reassure the other woman, fighting not to reveal how tense he’d become at this thread of conversation. 

“He is a stranger here.” Uther said quietly, almost to himself. “I never did trust that boy. A young man his age should have a wife, at the very least a home of his own. Even in all the time he’s been staying with Gaius, no expenses, no responsibilities, he has yet to accumulate any fortune.”

“So he’s a sorcerer because he’s poor and useless with women?” Arthur laughed, trying to stave off the panic that was clawing its way up his throat. 

“No one said anything about him being a sorcerer.” Aredian smiled indulgently but it didn’t make Arthur relax. If anything it made him more tense than before. 

“I suppose this speculation is futile.” Morgana said lightly. “But do you have any other suspicions?”

“He’s barely been in town an hour.” Arthur snapped. He couldn’t believe she was actually smiling as she asked such a thing. She just threw him a glare and turned more fully to face the witchfinder. 

“Well that depends on what I uncover in my investigations.” Aredian said, taking a short pull of wine. Arthur tried not to squirm as the minister’s eyes flicked to him for a moment before returning to his plate.

“What exactly will your investigation entail? Morgana asked sweetly.

“Naturally I will begin by examining the level of corruption in the church.” 

“There is nothing to be examined!” Geoffrey burst out before he schooled his expression back into one of polite disagreement. Arthur couldn’t help his shock. Not only to see such a carefully composed man lose his temper in such an outburst but to see the fear Aredian inspired in him. Arthur had known Geoffrey for years. Surely the strict man who claimed to know the voice of god couldn’t be intimidated so easily. Apparently he could. 

Aredian gave a laugh to diffuse some of the tension that was brimming around them in the silence. “I meant no offense. I only meant I would examine the people’s dedication to the church and its teachings. Who’s been skipping church? Who doesn’t know the commandments? Who has made enemies?”

“And once you have narrowed those down?” Morgana asked. She’d been leaning back in her seat since dinner began treading the line between nonchalance and disrespect. Now she sat forward, hands braced on the edge of the table as she drank in his every word. 

“The subtle craft of sorcery can only be fought by yet subtler means. Methods honed over decades of study. Methods that are known only to myself and shall remain that way.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, though Arthur couldn’t detect it in his features, which only unsettled him more.

“So when can we expect your investigation to begin?” Arthur asked after a large draw of wine. 

“I’ve already begun.”

 

He knew it was a bad idea even before he shoved off the covers and snuck past a sleeping Gaius with his boots in his hands, kicking himself the entire journey out of town. He was slinking around the dark like a criminal. Well, he supposed he was. When Merlin reached the edge of the woods, he ran, unable to take the slow pace anymore. He knew it was a bad idea but not even that could stop his feet from carrying him deeper into the forest. It felt too good, burning off even a fraction of the energy that was shaking his muscles. 

Laughing he threw out a hand and watched the sparks dance across his skin, arcing through space between his fingers until it all shot out in a single streak of blinding light snapping into the bark of the tree right beside him with a ringing crack. 

The sound startled him, making his feet stumble, and he had to catch himself on the trunk of the tree. It felt smooth against the bare skin of his hands and warm and trembling with the power he’d just injected into it. The tree pulsed under his touch in time with the beat of his heart deafening in his ears. 

Merlin smiled around a shaky exhale at the barest relief as some of the pressure that had been building up in him for days spilled out of his fingertips. It felt like his body was being torn apart from the magic ripping out of his skin and dragging lightening with it. 

It was exhilarating and terrifying, but as he released all his pent up magic he couldn’t care that it was wrong. It felt so right to be tethered to nature like this, sharing the same breath, driving the same heart. His power was crackling in the air around him and shaking the ground under his feet. The sky sighed with him and every bit of nature sung the notes that trembled in his mind with every breath.

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur hadn’t expected Aredian to call the whole town to congregate the next morning. At the very least, he expected the preliminary interviews to be held in private, but the minister called Lancelot to the front of the church.

Lance was settled into the stiff chair, facing the court and nearly every citizen of Camelot. 

“And what brought you into the woods that night?”

“I was part of a hunting party.”

Aredian nodded as if he was learning the information for the first time. He took long deliberate strides, pacing between Lance and the onlookers until he suddenly stopped and spun to face his suspect. “It seems you were on your expedition for several days longer than expected. Why was that?” 

“We all found it strange at the time, but we were out for days without a single sighting of game. It’s as if all the animals had fled the area.” 

Arthur heard the ripple go through the crowd and once again wished Aredian would’ve conducted these interviews in private.

“Peculiar, that.” Aredian said, ignoring the crowd. “Animal sacrifice has often been associated with paganism and witchcraft.” 

“Yes, sir.” Lance said, though it was obvious by the look the minister gave him that he hadn’t wanted a response.

“Of the ten men who entered the woods, only two returned. What harm befell you that night?”

“We were attacked.”

“By witches?” Aredian pounced, spinning dramatically. Arthur would’ve rolled his eyes if Uther hadn’t leaned forward eagerly  in the seat beside him then. As succinct as Lance’s responses had been so far, he’d spoken freely but he paused now, and Aredian caught on immediately. 

“Was your group killed by witches?” He said, leaning in. Uther was standing now, and Arthur couldn’t help but be caught up in the tension pulling tighter and tighter around the people in the room. 

Lance’s eyes strayed to Merlin of all people and while it struck Arthur as odd at first, when he saw Merlin’s slight nod, he understood. They were in a dangerous position. With one word, Lance would confirm everyone’s suspicions, not only that there was witchcraft at work, but that it was dangerous. Condemning his attackers would condemn Merlin in the same breath because these people wouldn’t draw the distinction between the witches who attacked them and  _Merlin_.

“Was it witchcraft that led to the death of eight men?” Aredian insisted, looming over Lance now. 

“Yes.” Lance said, and at the word, Arthur could nearly see the change in the people’s eyes. The witches weren't just a threat to their faith anymore, innocent souls corrupted by the devil. Witches were dangerous. A very real, present threat to everyone’s lives. 

“Tell the court what happened.”

Lance took a deep breath and didn’t speak again until Aredian had moved away. “We had made camp for the night. Rations had grown scarce because we were away from home longer than expected and had yet to come across any game. So we didn’t have any dinner, just made a fire to keep warm. We couldn’t see into the woods beyond the light of the fire but no one seemed concerned. Maybe they were hoping something would come attack so we’d have something to eat, but it wasn’t animals that came out of the dark.”

The room was transfixed, every eye resting on Lancelot but his were stuck firmly on his own hands. Arthur’s breath seemed overly loud to his own ears. Everyone else was holding theirs. 

“They came silently, the four figures in cloaks, so we didn’t have time to raise our weapons. They were upon us in a moment. I heard the strange words, an ugly language-” Arthur glanced over at Merlin but his face was carefully blank “-I heard my friends’ necks snap, seven of them in a row. The sound still haunts me.”

“Seven?”

“Elyan, Pellinore, and I were taken hostage. We fought to escape, but the magic was wrapped around us like razors. Any kind of movement would cut. We managed to get away when they were performing the beginning of some kind of ritual, but I had to carry Elyan. He fought against the restraints and he was so much worse. Pellinore was behind us for a few feet, until they captured him again. I tried to go back for him, but there was nothing I could do. They kept him alive. One of the…witches…said they needed a living sacrifice.”

“The voice you heard, did you recognize it?” Aredian asked.

“Yes.” 

“Whose voice?” Uther asked, voice trembling with barely restrained intensity. 

Lance drew in a shaky breath, eyes firmly fixed on his hands.

“Whose voice did you hear in the woods that night?”

He lifted his head, eyes burning into Uther’s, pleading, but Arthur knew from experience he would only be met with icy resolve. 

“Who was it!” 

Lance wasn’t able to bring himself to speak, but Arthur watched, heart thundering along and blood roaring in his ears, as Lance dragged his eyes from Uther and turned them onto Morgana.

“How dare you!” Uther growled, grabbing Lance’s shoulders and dragging him from his chair. 

“How dare you accuse my daughter!” He boomed at the same time Morgana burst from her seat in the front row of the pews and declared furiously, “Not I!”

“Sit down.” Uther hissed over his shoulder at her but she hardly spared him a glance. She was looking between the faces of Geoffrey, Aredian, and Arthur.

“Not I!” She repeated, “And if it was I, then surely it was because I was under the spell of some horrible witch.”

“Morgana!” Uther snapped, releasing Lance and stalking toward her. “Be quiet.” But he was too late. 

“You were possessed?” Aredian’s voice cut through Uther’s and Morgana turned her eyes back to him. 

“I did not wish to perform the ritual. I did not wish to drink blood-” 

“You drank blood!?” 

“-She made me! She comes to me in the night and I’m plagued with horrible dreams. I feel the touch of the devil in her gaze but as much as I want to resist, I can not.”

She collapsed then, tears streaming down her face as her chest shook with delicate sobs. Uther pulled her into his arms, whispering comforting words Arthur couldn’t hear and could’ve less easily imagined. 

Aredian seemed satisfied, if his smile was anything to go by, but still he pressed forward, “Who is the witch who possesses you?”

Morgana just continued to weep. 

“Tell us and we can protect you.” Uther promised. He practically had to shout to be heard over the bustling crowd.

Arthur’s eyes found Merlin’s in the chaos and they locked. He could see the other man’s desperation, the fear lurking shallowly beneath the surface of those dark blue eyes. He was laid bare for anyone to see. All they had to do was look and they would see the whole truth written there. For a long horrible second, Arthur thought the wetness brimming in Merlin’s eyes would spill over and his words from the night before rang through Arthur’s mind. _I’m scared._  

It felt like he was ripping away a part of himself when he pulled his eyes from Merlin’s to watch Morgana as she spoke, “It was Mary Collins.”

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur was there when Mary Collins was marched into the courtroom as much as he wanted to chase after Merlin, who fled from the church as soon as Morgana had spoken the name. His father insisted on his presence in the trial. Threatening or promising, Arthur wasn’t sure, but Uther made it very clear that it would be his duty to oversee such trials in the future so he must be prepared.

She looked as if she hadn’t eaten in several days and her wrinkled skin was stretched taut over rattling bones, covered in scattered bruises, deep angry purple on her papery skin. Arthur didn’t know how Aredian had managed that in such a short time. It had only been a few hours since he disappeared into the antechamber with the old woman. He’d heard of Aredian’s methods, everyone had, but to see them so close, to see them used against the woman who used to slap his hands away at the bakery when he was younger made him sick. 

Aredian was standing over her now, launching question after question at her, barely giving her a breath to answer between each and at each failure to provide an answer, he swung his hand in a large arc and with a resounding smack slapped his palm across her cheek. 

“Mary Collins, When did you compact with the devil?” Aredian boomed.

“I haven’t!” She screamed as his hand met her skin again and Arthur closed his eyes but that could drown out her screams. “I’m not-I don’t-Please!”

“Tell me!”

“I don’t want to work for him!” She screamed, voice broken in a way it hadn’t been before. She was weeping at the reverend’s feet, but Aredian was looking on triumph curving his wicked mouth. 

“Then you saw him?” He asked, and Mary could only nod through her rasping breaths. “You poor woman. He has you by the throat at this very moment, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.” She breathed, and the church erupted as every voice in the village sounded off at once in shock and panic and fear. 

“Fear not!” Aredian shouted over the din, commanding everyone’s attention. “I will pry the hands of Lucifer from this woman even if I have to use my bare hands!”

The crowd rose at that, watching as he dragged Mary Collins to her feet. She was weeping and falling into his arms and begging him “Please, please help me.” 

“Mary Collins, you would be a good christian woman once again would you not? Do you love god?”

“With all my being.” She sobbed, clutching onto his shirt. 

“When the devil came to you, did he bring others?” Aredian asked, holding her up by the wrists now as she sobbed before him.

“I couldn’t see.” She said, sobs abating for just a moment and her voice trembled with uncertainty but with a fervor Arthur had never heard from the woman before. 

“You could see _him_. Why couldn’t you see others?” Aredian demanded, shaking her until she found her voice. 

“Yes! I saw them.”

“Witches? You saw witches from Camelot?” Uther rose from his chair and stood beside Aredian now, shouting just as harshly at her as the minister.  

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” 

“Who! Who came to you with the devil?”

“Nimueh!”

“She has been hanged! Tell us who else is with the devil!”

Arthur watched as the woman crumbled at the feet of the two men, names pouring from her lips. Anything, he knew, to make them take their hands off her, to make them give her just a bit of peace. It didn’t matter who she incriminated anymore. It didn’t matter that the named people and their loved ones were shouting in the crowd. It didn’t matter that the words spilling from Mary Collins’ lips were so obviously lies, his father and the Witchfinder were lapping them up like dogs.

Three people were sentenced to death that day. Mary Collins was among them. 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur had tried to find Merlin first, but there were only so many places he could look before he gave up. Merlin would be found when he wanted to be. Still, Arthur was tense like he wanted to fight someone or fight for someone. He’d been useless to fight for Mary Collins, hadn’t even tried as they strung her up beside her son and his wife.

He had Merlin’s voice begging in the back of his head to do something. His father’s voice insistent in front of him demanding their heads. Morgana crying off to the side weeping, Aredian watching everything with careful eyes that promised they saw everything. He couldn’t hear himself think through the noise but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Wasn’t sure he could handle that noise on top of everything else. 

His body was driving him to action, whether he liked it or not. So when he couldn’t find Merlin to make sure he was alright, he found himself in Morgana’s home. 

Mordred handed them each a cup of tea and disappeared back into the kitchen to leave Morgana staring at Arthur with a brow arched. 

“I just came to make sure you were alright,” He shuffled in his seat.

“Aw. Never knew you cared.” Morgana sneered. Pushing up from her seat at the table, she paced the room, hands brushing over everything idly.

“I’m serious. If you were in trouble you should’ve come to me. We could’ve done something.” 

She just snorted, coming to stand in front of the small table beside the fireplace. 

“You said it was just the nightmares. If I’d have known I could’ve helped you.”

“What could you have possibly done?” She snapped, spinning sharply to face them. “Taken me to Uther to be interrogated and have my neck broken?”

His eyes were drawn to the candle her fingers wrapped around, thicker than his bicep. He could imagine her whipping it at his head easily and it would do some damage. When his gaze lifted back to her face it wasn’t the sight he expected to see. She wasn’t fuming with desperate fear or anger. She was watching him steadily, features smooth as her grip on the candle tightened. 

“I would’ve kept your secret. I would’ve helped you fight it.”

“Terribly sorry I robbed you of an opportunity to be the noble hero. I know how much you enjoy that.” 

“This isn’t about me.” Arthur sighed. He set his tea on the table in front of him and pushed to his feet to close some of the distance between them. He stood a few feet away, watching her consider his words. Her claw loosened on the candle and she began to twirl a finger around the wick, eyes drawn to her own movements. 

“No it’s not. You should go.” 

“Morgana-”

“Just go.” 

He nodded, knowing it was useless to try to have a conversation with her when she was like this. He scooped up his coat from where she’d tossed it over the back of the settee, ever the endearing hostess. He yanked open the door and caught sight of Morgause making her way up the small path from the road. 

“There’s nothing you can do now. Everyone knows. I’ll probably be hanged tomorrow.” Morgana said suddenly, pulling his attention back into the room. 

“Father will never let that happen.” He said, looking back. 

She was smiling, something malicious and strange. It wasn’t something he ever expected to see fixed on her features, but it was fitting somehow as her finger twisted around the wick of the candle before her. 

Morgause brushed past him without a word and let herself into the house. His eyes followed her of their own volition until he had turned to peer through the door as it swung closed. Morgana embraced Morgause, taking easily the comfort that Arthur had been trying to give. The last thing Arthur saw before the door clicked shut was Morgana pulling away but keeping a gentle grip on the other woman’s elbows to keep her close, and the candle by her hip alive with fire and flickering teasingly. 


	2. Chapter 2

The storm rolled in that night and it rained for three days, leaving everything grey and bleak, which was fitting. The rain didn’t stop the investigations. Not even god himself could’ve stopped Aredian when he got on a trail. Some brute had dragged a terrified girl to court by her hair to collect the bounty. It seemed like the worse the weather was, the hungrier they became. It pulled down everyone’s spirits and washed away whatever hope there was to cling to. The poor weather didn't slow the stream of onlookers in the church as six more people were questioned and inevitably found guilty, it just made everyone that did show up looking like drown rats. 

Arthur felt his boots squelching as he shifted from foot to foot, the cold pierced through his clothes and had seeped straight into his bones. It made him feel heavy, and it made frowning easier. The roads had flooded briefly and every inch of town was covered in mud. That didn’t stop a crowd from gathering across the road either, peering in through the open front door, as Bedivere, Owain, and the others rooted around the home of Catrina and Jonas Trull. Furniture was shoved aside, some of it was broken to pieces, books and sewing scattered across the floor. Arthur couldn’t stand to be in the center of it all so he hung back outside. Some of the people in the crowd cheered and others shouted protests but none stepped forward. Arthur didn’t blame them. He was supposed to be in charge, and not even he could’ve put a stop to this. 

Instead he was forced to ply the couple with inane questions as Jonas’s twitchy eyes watched everything nervously, and Catrina fumed, throwing everyone that passed her a murderous glance. 

“When was the last time you attended a Sunday service?” 

“Four days ago!” Catrina shouted, turning her glare onto him. She flung out her arm and directed his attention to the house across the road. “For goodness sake! If you want to question someone, go question Annis! Her husband was sentenced just yesterday for witchcraft! If any one is a witch it’s her!” 

He stopped paying her much attention almost the moment she started speaking, focusing instead on the churning of the crowd across the street. It was more that just the milling about of a nervous mob, which he’d grown accustomed to over the last few days. He’d expected more resistance as he tried to push through the crowd, but they parted for him. Not a single person dared touch him. 

“I know it was you!” 

“Watch your tongue Allined or you’ll be sure to lose it.” Arthur recognized the woman who must’ve been Annis. She and her husband had only lived in Camelot for a few months. They’d never spoken but Arthur knew her face from the market and weekly mass.

He knew immediately why Catrina had attempted to cast suspicion on her. She was an older woman, with a stern mouth who didn’t take anything from anyone. This was made clear in the way she stood in the doorway of her home, hands wrapped firmly around the small child resting on her hip, chin lifted defiantly as she looked down at the man fuming as he strode toward her. 

Arthur caught Allined by the shoulder before he could make it any closer. “What’s the trouble here?” 

“This-This devil woman has stolen all of my sheep! They’ve all vanished! Morgana Pendragon told me.” Annis scoffed but Allined just glared at her. “She took them all. Probably sacrificed them to her dark lord.”

“Do you have any proof?” 

“Well, no but-”

“Then we’ll look into it. There’s no need to accuse anyone.” Arthur said, confident that the other man had calmed enough to be released. 

“Very well.” 

Arthur watched him as he glared at her, but luckily the neighbor left without any other problems. The small crowd that had gathered around dispersed as Allined walked away, breaking away in twos and threes whispering fiercely among themselves. He turned back to Annis to find her watching him with narrowed eyes, mouth creased into a thin line. 

“Interesting how you suddenly demand proof now before you execute someone. You didn’t give my husband the curtesy.” She turned and retreated inside before Arthur could respond. The child’s eyes stayed fixed on him long after the mother had turned away. The grey eyes of a small child who understood more of his reality than his few years should allow. A child who was now fatherless and who the world would soon see orphaned. Annis had not made friends of those around her and it would come to hurt her if Arthur didn’t do something. It was only once the door was slammed after mother and son that the merciless gaze was broken. Arthur was left reeling.

Back in the home across the street, he said, “That’s enough” and found his voice flat. He cleared his throat and snapped, “Enough.”

“Arthur?” Leon was the only one to approach him. The others just paused in their ransacking of the Trull’s belongings. 

“We’re not barbarians.” Arthur said low enough for only Leon to hear, surveying the damage. Then, louder, “Set this all to rights then go home.” 

“But-” Arthur turned his back on any objections and gave a similar order to the crowd to dissipate. He pulled his coat tighter around himself as he strode home.

The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread greeted him when he pushed through the door. Guinevere was settled into her chair in front of the fire she must’ve built to fend off the thick chill that had rolled in with the rain. Elyan was stretched out on the cot beside her, still but for the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Gwen had taken up a new piece of knitting and he watched the dark brown yarn, manipulated expertly under her careful fingers. Whatever she was making looked soft as her small hands glided over it. If he let himself be soppy, he would notice that it was the same color as her eyes. 

“You were up early this morning.” She said neutrally. 

“I was with my father in the woods.” He said, stripping off his coat.

“Looking for witches?” She asked, disapproval coloring her voice. 

“There was evidence of powerful magic.” 

“That explains that horrible bounty. Honesty, offer a poor man money and he’ll hand you a saint swearing to his grave it’s a witch.”

Arthur sighed as he hooked the collar of his coat on the peg beside the door. Resting his head against the wall for a moment, he wished Guinevere would just forget it, but he knew her better than that. “The girl that Halig brought in.” 

“Yes, the girl.” She said firmly, turning her hard eyes onto him. 

“Did you know her?”

“Freya? Yes. She was a little quiet but sweet. I think if things would’ve gone differently, Merlin might’ve married her.” 

“Merlin?” Arthur had looked for him earlier to make sure he was alright but he had a knack for disappearing when he wanted. He wasn’t in his room, or with Gaius, or the tavern.  Arthur just hoped he’d found comfort wherever he was.

“Mm.” She hummed in quiet agreement.

“Have you spoken to him since?” He kicked off his boots, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. He didn’t want to fight with her, not after the long day he’d had. 

“Yes. He’s in the study, waiting to speak with you.”

“I’ll just send him on his way then and we can dine together.” Arthur said, inching toward the door to the study. 

“Invite him to join us if you like.” 

That stopped Arthur’s progress across the room. He turned back to face her and she was gazing at him with soft eyes. “Really?” 

She gave him a not-quite-smile, where the edges of her mouth turned up and her face gentled, and inclined her head “Really.” She had an air of acceptance about her, that was closer to resignation. Her grip on the fabric in her hands tightened when she said, “We both deserve to be happy, don’t you think?” 

“Yes.” Arthur answered, hesitantly. He wasn’t really sure what Merlin coming to dinner had to do with anyone’s happiness, or even what he was really agreeing to but whatever it was, he was glad for it because as Guinevere turned back to sit rightly in her chair, she was smiling. 

Arthur found Merlin seated at his desk, staring out the window. The events of the day, of the week, weighed heavily on him. Arthur could tell by the crease between his brows that even as his mind wandered freely, it wandered to dark places. He wanted to push through the door and establish himself more firmly in the room, but he was at a loss for what to say to the other man. Guinevere had said that Freya was the woman that Merlin was going to marry. Arthur had no words of consolation for that loss. Still, it felt cowardly to lurk outside waiting for inspiration to strike while the other man was alone. 

He was about to push forward when a subtle movement caught his attention. Merlin lifted his hand from his lap and waved it seemingly idly in slow circles before him, but as Arthur watched, the air shimmered and changed. A small red butterfly stirred the air in front of Merlin’s chest, and as Arthur watched the sorcerer watch the insect, a small smile lifted the edge of his lips.

It was a strange thing to see Merlin perform magic, but the magic he made was so _Merlin._ He had the power to bend all the natural world to his will, and he elected to create a butterfly. Arthur couldn’t help the familiar rush of warm affection he felt for the other man.

“You are such a girl’s petticoat.” He scolded himself as much as he teased his friend. 

Merlin jumped, but he smiled as Arthur closed the door behind him and approached him. “Better than an insensitive ass.” 

“Why did you come _here_?” 

Merlin didn’t say anything, just kept watching the little red butterfly dance around the air. And though that question was the predominant one in Arthur’s mind, sure to tear him up inside if he didn’t get an answer soon, he didn’t press the issue. 

 

Arthur stood in front of the desk with his hands on his hips. His smile had quickly faded and he was withdrawn now, studying his feet as he shifted his weight between them. Merlin was too worn out to say anymore so he sat in patient silence watching him shift uncomfortably. He knew better than to have conjured the butterfly, but his magic was growing more confident. He needed to channel it into something before it ripped him apart. With his grief came an uncontrollable surge of it like he’d felt several nights ago when he’d be forced to slip away into the woods to set it free. Since then it had been harder to push away. After days of watching harmless people marked as traitorous, humiliated, and swiftly hanged, his magic rebelled within him. His concern grew along with the suspicion that maybe sorcerers weren’t the real monsters after all.

The butterfly floated around the room, drifting closer and closer to Arthur with each pass. It made Merlin’s heart race to have the evidence of his magic about to brush against an instrument of his punishment for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to dissolve the illusion. It would be too much like losing a friend again. So he let it fly around their heads, and Arthur didn’t seem to mind as his eyes swayed between the creature and Merlin’s face. 

Merlin could see it clear as day, on his face, in the way he stood, that Arthur was torn. He wasn’t sure if he should offer his condolences or side with the court because Freya was a witch and witches should be hanged. 

Merlin was tired of waiting for Arthur to puzzle it out. If he hadn’t made up his mind now, he never would. Merlin moved slowly-it wouldn’t do to storm out in a huge gust of anger-as he pushed away from the desk and out of the chair. Arthur followed Merlin’s movements with his eyes as he made for the door, still struggling to find words.

“I’m sorry about Freya.” 

Merlin felt a sharp clench around his heart at the name like the grip of a merciless hand. “She was a good friend. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“She shouldn’t be.” The words seemed to cost Arthur a great deal, but his jaw was clenched tightly. The shifting of his stance stilled. And his eyes were locked on Merlin’s filled with tears.

“None of them should be.” Merlin said, pushing past Arthur to reach for the door. 

“Will you stay?” Arthur rushed in a single puff of air. “Have supper with us.”

Merlin considered him for a long time trying to figure if the comfort of a friend was worth it if that friend was part of the reason he needed comfort. If it had been anyone else, Merlin knew he would’ve walked out, but Arthur was looking at him with so much guilt and desperation. Merlin couldn’t stand to see him that conflicted any more than he could stand being alone anymore, so he nodded once and left the room. 

The three of them sat down to the supper Gwen had laid out on the table for them. Arthur led a quick prayer, but when it came time to say ‘amen’, Merlin’s throat was stuck together and the word came out thick and croaked. Gwen gave him a sad little smile and a pat on the arm that was supposed to be encouraging, but it rattled around inside him like he was hollow. 

They ate in silence. Every so often, Merlin would look around but Gwen and Arthur were staring staunchly at their plates. 

“This is delicious, Gwen.” Merlin offered, twisting his spoon around his stew. 

“Thank you Merlin.” She said, over-brightly, and her eyes flicked to Arthur for a brief flash.

“It really is.” Arthur chimed in. 

“I do most of the cooking for me and Gaius, but it is never this good.” Merlin smiled, spooning another bite into his mouth under Gwen’s watchful eyes.

Gwen opened her mouth to reply, but a shriek pierced through the room before she could speak. Arthur was on his feet in an instant, rushing to the door. He only paused for a second to pull his boots on before he yanked open the door to find the source of distress. Gwen followed behind him, and Merlin a moment later. In the yard, they could see the commotion as bodies rushed around in all directions some away from the crowd gathering down the road, others rushed forward, buckets in hand. The noise was much louder outside, pressing in from all sides. 

Arthur had taken off down the road before Merlin could even make sense of the situation, but he followed anyway, dodging people who were screaming and running toward them. Smoke billowed into the sky up ahead, curling over houses and blocking out the light of the moon leaving the scene illuminated by the violent flickering orange light of a massive fire. 

He recognized it even buckling under it’s own weight and engulfed in flames as the home of Caerleon and Annis. Caerleon had been one of the people questioned in court two days ago. He’d laughed, refusing to answer any of the questions posed to him. When they dragged him away to be locked up for contempt of court, he’d said it was a mockery and the people running it were fools. The day after, when he appeared again, this time led to his execution, his face was purple and swollen beyond recognition. Just before the floor dropped out from beneath him, he said, voice weak, “You will have no mercy for this.” 

Leon, Percival, and a few others were trying to keep the crowd back as the fire grew and swirled in the harsh wind coming too close to the bystanders. 

Arthur stopped to speak to Leon for a brief moment, then turned toward the house. 

“Arthur, No!” Merlin shouted, but his voice was swallowed up by the din of the crowd and the roaring of the flames. His step faltered. Arthur slammed through the front door and was blown off his feet as the flames inside burst out, crawling up into the air to swallow and burn the fresh oxygen. 

Wild panic sung through his veins, and he threw himself to his knees beside the still body. His hands scrabble along Arthur’s neck, desperate for a pulse, but were shoved away as Arthur pushed to his feet and headed for the house again. 

A savage sound of frustration and fear broke out of him from deep in his chest. He followed a few seconds later. Every instinct in him was telling him to run the other way but someone had to make sure Arthur didn’t get himself killed. Merlin would never trust anyone else to do it. 

All the air was sucked from his lungs when he ran inside and the wall of heat hit him like a physical blow. He could barely open his eyes through the sting of the heat. The smoke obscured most of the view anyway. Arthur hadn’t made it much farther, it seemed, as Merlin ran blindly into his back. 

“Annis!” Arthur shouted, voice rough. Merlin knew they didn’t have much time before it made them both sick as every breath they drew was black. Even if they could find the woman there was doubt she would make it after so much damage to her lungs. But he didn’t have time to argue about it. 

“Annis and her son are in here somewhere!” Arthur shouted as he ran toward the stairs. It was a narrow path. The fire had been going strong for some time now. It had engulfed most of the floor and was licking it’s way up the walls. There was just enough space for them to fit one at a time without catching fire themselves. 

Merlin was at his side as they searched the second story for any sign of life. All was still but the fire teasing around their ankles. Arthur was searching the last room again frantically. Merlin watched from the doorway. He was searching the ceiling for the source of that groaning that was so low it was less of a sound and more of a rattling in his chest. It wasn’t going to hold up much longer. 

Grabbing Arthur by the arms, Merlin fought to drag him away. “The roof is caving in!”

“I won’t leave without them.” Arthur struggled out of his grip.

“They aren’t up here Arthur!” Merlin begged. “They might be downstairs, or they could’ve gotten out already, but it won’t do any good to stay here.” 

They wasted precious seconds in their impasse, but Arthur finally conceded and they struggled toward the stairs. They groaned threateningly under the weight of the men, weakening with every second. 

They nearly made it to the bottom before the sound of snapping timber echoed like a crack of thunder all around them and Arthur went plummeting through the floor that stretched its hungry mouth beneath them. Merlin shouted, jumping forward to catch him and pull him back before he could fall through. 

They stood like that for as long as they dared, Merlin’s hands wrapped around Arthur and his back leaning into his chest as they heaved, trying to pull a clean breath into their lungs.  

It was a moment of comfort while the walls were crumbling around them and the small brushes of skin again skin felt cool to touch, enveloped as they were in the sizzling air. Merlin released him from his hold, unwilling to face the feeling of Arthur pulling away from him and they both descended the last few steps. 

Arthur tried venture forward again, but his progress was slow. Merlin didn’t try to follow this time. He search deep inside himself and dragged that buzzing energy he’d tried so hard to push down back up to just beneath the skin. And he let it free. 

The smoke rushed past them out the front door like it was sucked from the room and the breath of cool air was a welcome relief to the pressing heat. For a few precious moments, the room was empty of smoke and flames.

Both men rushed toward the far corner of the room where they spotted a rumpled pile of cloth trapped under a fallen beam. The edge of a woman’s dress. 

The wood was splintered and glowing, alight with embers. It stung to touch, but Merlin gripped it tightly. Together they strained to lift it, and another cool rush of magic surged through him. The beam was tossed aside.

“It’s not her!” Merlin said dumbly, staring at the pile of dresses that must’ve fallen with the floor from the bedroom above. Arthur paused in his search of the room to cuff him on the back of the head. 

“Whenever you boys are done redecorating, the door is this way!” Annis appeared beside them through a break in the smoke. Her face was blackened with soot, hair falling out of her bonnet, but she was draped in a soaking wet cloak, leaving a trail of tiny drops around her that evaporated quickly. Tucked into her side, under the cloak was her boy, tracks of tears breaking through the soot on his face. 

“So much for a rescue,” Merlin mumbled, heading for the door with the others. 

The sudden cold as he made it outside burned in it’s own way. He was blind again in the darkness with the fire at their backs. Pulling in huge draws of air, his chest constricted as he hacked and coughed, unable to catch his breath. 

A hand slapped across his back a few times which was probably meant to help him breath, but it nearly made his knees buckle beneath him. 

“Alright there, Merlin?” Arthur said, his own voice rough with smoke. He wasn’t exactly smiling-it would hardly be appropriate to smile while standing nearly on the ashes of a widow’s home-but Merlin could tell he was energized by the excitement. He certainly couldn’t blame him. Arthur was a man of action and even his own body was singing with adrenaline around the aches and burns. 

“I’d be better if you’d stop hitting me.” Merlin managed. The sharp pats stopped, but the steady weight of a warm hand on his back remained. 

“Gaius is here. He’s looking after Annis and her son right now. I can call him over if you need.” Arthur offered.

He started to pull away, the warmth of his hand slipping across his back. Merlin straightened chasing that touch. Arthur seemed to have forgotten it but Merlin wasn’t willing to let it go just yet. “No, it’s alright. I’m fine. Nothing a gallon of water and some burn salve wont fix.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” Arthur teased, “Or are you just trying to act like a hero?” 

“I saved your life, didn’t I?” Merlin shook his head, trying to hold back his exasperated smile-a common one when it came to Arthur-and scanned his eyes over the crowd to find Gaius to see if he could help with anything. His eyes came to rest, instead, on an older man with oily black hair and a huge grin, twisting his average features into a mask of triumph. 

“Arthur, look.” Merlin said quietly, nudging him and jutting a chin subtly in the man’s direction. 

 

Arthur directed his attention where Merlin pointed it, rolling his eyes at the other man’s horrendous attempt at subtlety. He hadn’t been expecting to see Allined taking in the vignette of the burning house with an expression nearing smugness but when that’s what he saw, he found he wasn’t really all that surprised. 

Everyone had spent so much time worrying about sorcerers lately, they’d all but forgotten the threat of ordinary men. Magic users weren’t the only ones bent on destruction. One was just as capable of setting fire to someone’s home as the other was of killing eight innocent people for seemingly no purpose.

Only that morning, he’d been dragged out of bed, already empty despite the early hour, and forced was to ride out blearily with his father and Aredian to inspect a stretch of forest that had been blasted to ruin. Uther had nearly had a fit at the sight of the trees, scorched and mangled into shadows of their formers selves, the ground littered with the strange and familiar symbols of witchcraft. 

Aredian had reached a hand out to one tree but it had crumbled to dust at his touch, a chunk disintegrating and blowing away in the early morning breeze. 

“Do you smell it, Uther?” The minister had said. “It’s all around us. The foul stench of sorcery. It’s infected this great land like a contagion.” 

Uther was shaking by the time he finished speaking, worked into such a rage that his words were snarled when he said, “I’ll have no more of this. Tell everyone there will be a reward for any witch that is handed over to the court. I want these monsters found and brought to justice.” 

Arthur didn’t know why the witches had destroyed this small bit of forest so thoroughly. But it felt so much like a threat to him that the sight chilled him. If they were capable of this much destruction out there in the forest, what could ever stop them from destroying the town? Certainly not the court, no matter how many trials they held. They were completely powerless, at the mercy of these people that must hate them. 

“I guess we know what started the fire.” Merlin said, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the present. 

He looked back at Merlin. “This looks too much like what I saw this morning.” He mused then asked Merlin, “Do you know anything about the damage in the woods?”

Merlin studied him warily, no doubt searching for accusation in the words. There was none. Arthur had worked hard to keep his tone neutral. “It was just a little magic. I barely did anything.” 

“You…” Arthur gaped. At best he’d been hoping that Merlin had some intuition about it. He hadn’t really thought Merlin could be responsible for all that ruin. Worse than him actually being the cause of it, though, was the way he had set his chin defiantly, without a hint of remorse.

Arthur couldn’t take that look any longer, that challenge in his eyes to turn him in just like all the others that had been accused and met justice for real or imagined crimes. He caught Merlin by the arm and dragged him bodily away from the mass of people milling around to watch the chaos into the relative darkness around the back of the house. It was far enough away that they could not feel the heat of the fire but close enough that the house eclipsed the sparse light of the moon, leaving them in near total darkness. 

“You mean to tell me that you’re responsible for felling trees twice the size of you and scorching the earth to black.” Arthur hissed, letting his voice raise without fear of being overheard here. 

Merlin’s face twisted in confusion. As the words sunk in, he ripped his arm from the other man’s grip. “What are you talking about?” 

Arthur ground his teeth and tried to hold back the flood of his anger that was threatening to swell out of him. He took a few deep breaths and when he’d settled himself, he described what he’d seen that morning. 

“No. I couldn’t have. That wasn’t-” Merlin’s rambling protests went on as he tried to convince Arthur, and himself, that there is no way one person could be responsible for so much mayhem. 

“It’s alright. I believe you.” Arthur sighed. Most of him was glad to discover that Merlin did, in fact, not have anything to do with it, but there was a small part of him that wished the damage had been caused by someone he knew wouldn’t do that maliciously. If Merlin had been to blame, Arthur knew it could at least be attributed to some accident or his legendary clumsiness. 

“Wait a minute, you said it was just a little magic. What did _you_ do?” 

Merlin ducked his head, guilty smile giving him away. “I’m not entirely sure actually. I felt like I was going to burst, so I went a ways into the woods and just…expelled all the energy from my magic.” 

“What happened?”

“I don’t actually remember. The whole thing was hazy. I tried so hard to forget it happened afterward.” Merlin shrugged apologetically. He could see that Arthur wasn’t satisfied and offered, “I could show you.” 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Merlin stopped and turned to face Arthur, meeting his eye for the first time. 

He didn’t realize they had arrived until Merlin arched a brow in a move reminiscent of Gaius and gestured toward the tree he had come to stand in front of. 

“I don’t understand.” Arthur breathed, staring up at the massive tree. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Its branches, flourishing with deep green leaves, towered high above all the surrounding trees’ skeletons. Fully alive in the height of winter and looming several stories over their heads. It had to be the work of magic, but it was unlike any magic Arthur had ever seen. 

“You did this?”

The tree hummed with life. Arthur could feel the pulse of it as he ran tentative fingertips over the rough bark. This was the magic Merlin had been defensive of less than an hour ago. Arthur had been fearing they would come upon ruins, but they found life instead. Like the butterfly Merlin had willed into existence, but so much more potent. Closer to the abrupt slowing of time as Merlin plucked the scythe out of the air before it could fall on their friend. He wasn’t just a bumbling innocent idiot who needed protection from his own power. 

Merlin was a force of nature.

“Have you ever used your magic against someone?” Arthur asked, letting his hand fall away from the warm skin of the tree as he turned back to face Merlin.

He stood a small distance away, eyes turned demurely away, and pointedly not answering the question. 

“Merlin?” He asked, taking a hesitant step toward him. 

A smile split Merlin’s lips. He seemed to be struggling with it but the longer he was silent, the larger the smile grew. Dread seeped through Arthur at the sight, weighing his limbs, but Merlin wasn’t that kind of man. He would never use his magic to hurt someone. But if it wasn’t to hurt someone. 

It occurred to him suddenly and all his dread washed away by shock and indignation. “You cheated at dice, didn’t you?

Any control Merlin had managed to gain over his amusement snapped and he dissolved into laughter. 

“You are unbelievable!” Arthur shouted through his own laughter. Merlin tried to apologize, the word sorry nearly making it out of his mouth several times but every time he tried he would fall into another fit of laughter. 

“It was only once. I’m sorry.” Merlin caught his forearm and tried to reassure him even through the massive grin he couldn’t wipe away and his rumbling chuckles. 

The sound was deep and warm, and it wrapped around Arthur, wicking away all traces of his own outrage until he was left holding on to the pretense of irritation and struggling defiantly not to give in. He tried to yank his arm out of Merlin’s grip, but the other man held on and, already tipsy with amusement, crashed into Arthur’s chest. 

They went stumbling backward. Arthur’s back connecting roughly with the tree and Merlin gripped at the fabric of his coat to keep from tumbling to the ground. His shoulders were shaking with laughter, the one dug into Arthur’s ribs scraped with every movement. Arthur couldn’t push him away though.

“You clumsy oaf!” Arthur shouted, panting his laughter into the air above both their heads.

“My fault.” Merlin said, hands uncurling arounds his coat collar and standing up a little straighter. The drag of Merlin’s body against him silenced Arthur, sending a jolt of heat through him that cut off his laughter in a choked noise. Sharp puffs of breath visible in the cold swirled together in the few spare inches between them. 

The night was cold, it occurred to him. It was cold because it was the middle of November in the middle of the night in the middle of the woods. He was cold everywhere Merlin wasn’t touching, which wasn’t much, but his back was pressed against the tree that glowed with Merlin’s magic and that was warm too. The night was cold enough to sting his skin and see his breath but he was warm because he was in the middle of this sorcerer and his magic. 

“I’ll just…” Merlin said as he planted a hand on Arthur’s chest for balance and pushed away to regain his own footing. 

The rush of air that filled the spaces Merlin had just been dragged a shiver through him. Arthur’s hand shot out, clutching at Merlin’s before he could take away that last bit of warmth. 

“What are you…?” Merlin’s question trailed away with his smile when he looked back at Arthur’s face.

It would’ve amazed Arthur how much effort it took to let him go if he’d been aware of anything but Merlin’s eyes, wide and burning into his. As ridiculous as it felt, he wanted to keep them in this moment for as long as they could stay. It was strange to realize that for the first time he wasn’t wary of Merlin or his magic. Together in the dark with no one around to see or condemn them. He never wanted to leave.

 

“We should see Gaius. Maybe he’s figured out what caused the real damage. If anyone knows, it’s him.” Merlin blurted out, tugging his arm away from Arthur. It’d been a dangerous whim that put it there in the first place. 

“Right.” Arthur sighed, closing his eyes for several seconds. When he finally opened them again, he seemed to be more balanced. He took one last look around little clearing before turning his back on it and heading toward town. They were silent for most of the journey, but it was an easy quiet, one that Merlin could settle into and find comfort in. They’d shared many of these silences in their long acquaintance and he found it was the first time in all the idle moments of the day that he hadn’t felt sick with grief over the loss of his friend. 

“When I found out Freya was going to be executed, I shut myself up in your study because there wasn’t anywhere else in Camelot that I wanted to be.” Arthur seemed shaken by Merlin’s words. He didn’t respond, didn’t even spare the other man a look but everything about the way he moved revealed a forced composure. 

  Merlin knew better than to have said anything. He’d revealed far too much with that simple truth and now Arthur was tense, jerking his arm away sharply when it brushed against Merlin’s. He never should’ve opened his mouth. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, that Arthur would fall into his arms in a loving embrace? Or maybe declare his undying love because Merlin had hinted at the depth of his feelings. Maybe he really was an idiot.

Arthur cleared his throat and simply said, “Good.”

He knew better. Arthur was his friend and anything else would be perverse. As much as he wanted to see love in Arthur’s eyes, he knew that it would never be. Deep down he didn’t really want it to be. Because Arthur was a great man, compassionate and strong, and he deserved only the best from this world and the next. There could be no greater sin than dragging such a good man into hell with him. Merlin may be wicked and sinful and perverse and destined for an eternity in hell for too many reasons to number but he didn’t have to be selfish. 

So he let Arthur’s small acknowledgement warm him from the inside and promised himself that that little glance Arthur turned in his direction and half smile was enough for this lifetime.

The small house Merlin shared with Gaius came in to view a few minutes later. Merlin pushed through the front door unannounced and found Gaius sorting through his herbs at a work table.

The physician greeted both men warmly and set aside his work, coming to stand before them. He insisted on checking them over for injuries before anything else. Merlin gave in and Arthur followed suit. It was easier not to argue and to endure the lecture he gave them about running off earlier before he could make sure they were alright.

“How’s Annis and her son?” Arthur asked as Gaius spread a sour smelling salve on a bit of a burn on Arthur’s forearm. 

“They fared remarkably well considering.” Gaius finished his brief examination and declared them both mostly undamaged. “Now was there something you needed?”

“We were wondering if you have found any explanation for the witches’ strange rituals.” Merlin said, rolling down his sleeves that the physician had pushed up.   

“Yes. I’ve done a bit of research” Gaius said, shuffling over to a table before sifting through a stack of papers. He pulled out three small papers, distressed now, after the excessive handling, with runes sketched on them by a familiar hand. 

“Where’s the book?” Arthur cut in, stepping closer to examine the pages.

Merlin nearly broke in to question him but Gaius looked just as confused as Merlin felt, so he waited for Gaius to speak. “What book?”

“The journal that those pages were in. Where is it?” Arthur asked with urgency that only served to create more confusion for the others. 

“Your father gave me the pages. Only the pages.” 

“My father kept the journal?” Arthur asked, holding himself eerily still even as he tried to keep his voice casual. 

“Yes. It was his, was it not?” 

“No, it was mine. Did he say it was his?” 

“No. He tore out the pages he wanted me to study and tucked the little book back into his coat. I just assumed…” Gaius said, brows drawing together. “Why would he do such a thing if it was not his to keep?”

“It’s hardly important.” 

“It seemed important a moment ago.” Merlin said, stepping up beside Arthur to examine him more closely. 

“It’s nothing.” Arthur insisted, then turned back to Gaius. “You were saying?”

Gaius kept his eyes on the young man for a few moments longer, looking for all the world like he wanted to press the issue. He didn’t though. Instead, he flipped through the pages in his hand until he found the one he needed. “I believe the ritual the witches performed in the woods that night was a fairly standard one. It was meant to serve as a communion with the dead. Traditionally the runes would be drawn in the earth in a circle around a fire that burned herbs with various properties. Then they would incant a spell, or a chant of some kind, meant to call forward spirits. It is meant to be performed on Samhain when the veil between worlds is thinnest.”

“According to the pagans.” Merlin prompted Gaius, uneasy at how casually he spoke of these matters. 

“Yes, of course.” Gaius nodded.

“But those symbols weren’t carved in the ground, they were carved into human bone.” Arthur said, question clear.

“Yes, I have taken that into account. Unfortunately, my resources are very limited. I don’t have access to much information about witchcraft.” He crossed the room to sift through a pile of books stacked about knee height in front of the tall shelves lining the far wall. He returned with a thick volume, curling with age and covered in traces of dust, like someone had done their best to brush it away but there was too much to get rid of completely. “So my hypothesis is derived only from this book and personal experience.” 

“What hypothesis?”

He thumbed through the pages until coming upon the one he needed suddenly. The spine groaned when he yanked it wide open and turned it around to show the other two. “I believe that the witches were attempting to call a spirit back into the physical world. At the core of the Old Religion is balance. The fact that the runes were carved into the bones of a man they had just killed, then burned, suggests human sacrifice. The taking a life in order give life to another.” 

Arthur glanced over the runes then at the book. The elaborate illustrations looked like what Gaius was describing, a coven of witches hunched in concentration around a shining ghost. “Who would they want to raise from the dead?” 

“That depends on who the four witches in the ritual were. We only know with certainty that Nimueh was one, but I can’t imagine anyone who she would have such motivation to bring back.” 

“Mary Collins was another.” Arthur said, “Morgana said Mary forced her to take part in the ceremony.” 

Merlin struggled to keep silent, exchanging a knowing look with Gaius after he forced his mouth closed.

“In all the years I knew them, I never witnessed a single significant interaction between Nimueh and Mary.” Gaius said lightly. He was treading ever so carefully, fully aware of who was on the other end of this conversation. 

“You don’t believe Mary Collins was involved?” Arthur asked, taken aback. “Why didn’t you say so? My father respects your opinion. You might’ve been able to prevent her death.”

“There was nothing I could say. Morgana’s story was very convincing.” 

Arthur considered the old man for a long time, tone hardening as he realized the implications of the other man’s words. “You believe Morgana is lying.”

Gaius and Merlin exchanged another glance. “I know she is. 

“How-No. That’s enough. There’s been far too much finger pointing tonight. I’ll not hear it.” Arthur took a step back.

“Why would Mary Collins need her to perform a ritual? If Morgana was new to witchcraft, her power would be nearly useless in conjuring the dead.” Gaius tried to reason with him, but Arthur kept his steady backward retreat as he shook his head. “The ritual was performed by four witches. They must’ve been very powerful. Now if Aredian is to be believed-”

“If?” Arthur balked but Gaius pushed on. 

“There are many more than four witches in all of Camelot. Why would Mary or even Nimueh, if she was responsible, choose Morgana of all people to perform what is nothing short of necromancy, the darkest and most powerful magic there is?”

Arthur’s eyes strayed to Merlin’s. “Do you think Morgana was part of it? Willingly?”

Merlin shifted, steeling himself for something he swore he would never say. “I saw her in the woods that night. I didn’t tell because I didn’t think anyone would believe me. But I did see her and she didn’t look possessed. She…”

“What?” Arthur snapped. Merlin tried not to flinch, but the steel in Arthur’s his voice and the hurt in his eyes were painful. At least he had stopped trying to leave. 

“She looked to be in charge.” 

“I’ll have no more of this,” Arthur said, voice ringing with all the authority of his station and none of the soft familiarity Merlin had come to know from him. For a startling moment, he sounded exactly like his father, and this seemed to occur to him at the same time it occurred to Merlin. Arthur’s gaze flickered to Gaius for a moment, and whatever he saw there chastened him. When he turned back for the door, his head was hanged. 

Merlin watched him go, unwilling to call him back and face another unjustified fit of anger. He turned instead to his mentor who was watching Arthur’s retreating back with a face heavily lined with weariness.

“He’ll come around. I’ll talk to him and he’ll see sense.” Merlin tried to reassure him, but Gaius just turned his weary eyes onto Merlin. 

“There is so much of his father in that boy.” Spoken any other way, Merlin would’ve heard a compliment in those words, but he knew Gaius was right to dread this. He dreaded it himself sometimes. When Arthur speaks of his magic and Merlin’s head starts to pound in time to his frantic heart because Arthur held so much power over him it was dizzying. With one word, Arthur could take his home, his family, his life. He had more power over Merlin than any man ever should, in ways that he could never speak, and it terrified him sometimes how much of Uther he saw in Arthur. 

But Merlin knew better than to let his thoughts down that road. He could trust him, and now was not the time to start doubting that just because Arthur couldn’t face a hard truth about his sister. 

“Have you made any progress with the runes found this morning?” He asked when he came back from his thoughts. Gaius had made his way to one of his work tables and had resumed the cleaning he’d been at when Merlin and Arthur arrived. At this, he peered questioningly over his shoulder. Merlin explained, “Arthur told me about what they found this morning. Well, accused me but that’s beside the point.”

“I’ve been more than a little preoccupied. What with the trial and tending to my patients, and keeping this place from falling to ruin from the mess.” Gaius said pointedly. 

“I’ve been busy lately. I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s important to you to follow these trials closely, but you must take care. The closer you get to them the more you’re at risk.” 

“I know. I’m being careful. I am.” Merlin promised, rushing forward to take some of the dishes from Gaius’s shaking arms. “I guess it would help if I got some space for both our sakes.”

“You can’t turn your interest away from it completely. That is just as suspicious as following the proceedings too closely.” Gaius instructed, leading his apprentice in taking the dishes to the small tub across the room. 

“And since we’re speaking of you taking unnecessary risks, how could you be so stupid?” His voice had risen to a shout by the end of his question and Merlin startled, nearly sending everything in his grip to the floor to shatter into innumerable pieces. “Running into a burning building! Are you trying to give an old man a heart attack?”

“There was a woman and child trapped inside.” Merlin tried but Gaius wasn’t appeased.

“It’s not like I was going to get hurt. My magic always flares up when I’m in danger.” 

“Yes, that’s precisely the problem!” Gaius shouted. “What would’ve happened if your magic acted out without your permission and you were discovered? If the house didn’t kill you, the townspeople would’ve.”

“But they didn’t. I’m fine.” Merlin insisted.

“But for the grace of God.” Gaius grumbled, returning to the table and stacking a few bowls on top of each other. 

“I’ll finish cleaning up here.” Merlin offered, feeling the guilt for both neglecting his duties to the physician and worrying him so much. “Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Yes that sounds like a very good idea.” The older man smiled as broadly as he could with his exhaustion weighing on every inch of him. Merlin began to straighten things, returning bowls and vials to their proper places, dusting over every surface he passed as Gaius puttered over to his cot.

“Oh Merlin.” He said, stopping before he could settle in and forget all his troubles.

“What is it?”

“I have had a few spare minutes to look into this morning’s findings. Both recognizable runes, and the element of fire indicate a ritual to increase power and strength of those involved.” Gaius said. He returned to a worktable, retrieved the book of magic-the only one permitted in Camelot for knowledge’s sake-and handed it to Merlin. “Perhaps you should familiarize yourself with the ways of the Old Religion. In case a situation like this should arise again.”

“Right.” Merlin said weakly, accepting the veiled gift. His eyes stayed on Gaius as he settled under the covers and drifted toward sleep, but Merlin was seeing well beyond the room. The threat of the witches was all the more sinister in it’s unknowable quality yet for all he didn’t know, the weight of responsibility fell on him. These witches were his kind and he had to stop them, but he didn’t have any idea how to begin. He couldn’t know what they wanted, or who they were willing to hurt to get it but whatever it was, they were preparing for something big. 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur had slept poorly. He’d spent most of the night laying in the dark, trying to calm his racing mind. His body was alive with the excitement of the fire and everything that came after. His mind lingered in the forest, surrounded by the warmth of Merlin’s touch and his laughter. 

He’d tried to relax and fall into sleep like Gwen lying beside him. He lay silently and watched her silhouette shift as she exhaled, trying to let himself be lulled by the rhythm of it. With every breath the tension inside him coiled tighter until he was ready to spring out of bed and go bounding into the woods to reclaim the peace he’d had before.

Uther had insisted on a meeting just after the sun rose and obeyed with little resistance. He tried to stay awake as his father went over the food reserves, and the maintenance of the road to Concord. The conversation finally turned to the true reason Arthur had been summoned.

“The fire originated in the home of Annis, Carleon’s widow. I believe it was set by Allined.” Arthur reported. He hesitated when Uther arched a skeptical brow, but he continued regardless. “I was witness to an altercation between them yesterday evening, just before the fire started. He accused her of witchcraft and of stealing all of his sheep.” 

Uther sat forward in his chair, disapproval rolling off him in waves, “Why wasn’t this brought to my attention?”

“Father, the accusation was baseless.” Arthur tried explain, but Uther’s frown only deepened. “Regardless, I believe the fire was set intentionally as a form of revenge.”

“Given the events of the last few days, I’m surprised you would be so quick to dismiss sorcery as a motive.” Uther said, his words a challenge. 

“Sorcery isn’t a motive, it’s a tool.” Arthur said, then quickly changed directions. That is not an argument he wanted to have at the moment. “But that does not excuse Allined as the most likely suspect.”

“You suspect Allined of sorcery?”

“Why are you so confident that sorcery is responsible for this attack?”

“Sorcery is the greatest threat facing Camelot.” Uther said, words pouring like fire from his mouth. He snatched up the storage reports and shook them in his clenched fist. “Not starvation. Not the elements. Not the French or the damn indian savages. The devil is among us and you would be able see that if you weren’t so preoccupied. Sorcery exists to destroy, nothing else. Is it really so unreasonable to expect that it has struck again?”

It was useless to try and get his father to consider any other mindset at this point. He knew that and while he buried it deep to keep it from breaking free again, the fire in him that drove him to argue wasn’t quelled. It couldn’t be. It burned from the memory of the night before, pressed in warm between Merlin and the manifestation of his magic. That tree hadn’t been destroyed at all. It thrived on the power in Merlin, in full bloom in the middle of winter. But Uther would never understand. Arthur barely understood. That magic was just a tool, that it was the wielder who chose if it was good or evil, that everything he had been taught since he was a boy was wrong.

How could he make Uther see when he was barely willing to accept it himself? So he sat back in his chair and sighed, “I suppose not.”

Uther nodded, appeased for the moment and dismissed the whole thing as a minor annoyance. He stayed quiet for a long time, thoughtful, until he said,. “There was a woman. Miss Gawant. She lives near there?”

“Yes, her house is only a few down from Annis’s.”

“Her house was the only one on that stretch of road that remained untouched. I remember that distinctly.” Uther said, Coming to an abrupt conclusion on his own. “Take her into custody. I wish to question her.” 

“It’s coincidental.” Arthur forced his tone to stay light and dismissing, though dread was pouring into him. Gwaine would be devastated. “Hardly evidence for a trial.”

“No, but who knows what a trial will uncover.” Uther settled back in his chair and shifted through the other papers on his desk.

Arthur recognized the dismissal but he refused to heed it. “Father-” 

“You’ll do this without objection.”

“I won’t. Elena is an innocent girl and I’ll have no part in her arrest.” Arthur struggled to hold onto his resolve under Uther’s dark gaze. 

“Then I shall have Leon do it.” Uther stood evenly, the picture of composure. Arthur knew him well enough to recognize the carefully concealed rage as he went to the door. “Oh, and Arthur,” He paused, looking back just slight and said, “Your position as sheriff of this town is only yours at my discretion. You’d do well to remember that.”

Arthur was silent as the door clicked shut.

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

The church didn’t have bells like the cathedral he’d gone to with his parents in England. It gave the squat building the look of a meeting house. There were no religious decorations or installations. The only thing that made it feel like a church was when Reverend Monmouth stood at the front and gave his sermon. Geoffrey was seated now, watching the proceedings with a pinched expression. 

It wasn’t a church. It couldn’t be, a place this cold, completely empty of the mercy of God. But there was a woman at the front begging for it anyway. 

Uther sat firmly at the table, quill and papers set before him as he looked down his nose at her. Aredian was seated to the right of him with an exact reflection of Uther’s disdain clear on his features. 

Elena was standing before their table. She didn’t look like she’d be standing much longer for the trembling of her limbs. 

From his position at Uther’s left, Arthur could see her, face red from tears and hair loose and running wild from her bonnet like it always was, and the faces of those in the pews. Merlin was gnawing on his bottom lip, brows knitted tightly together in concern. Gwaine looked murderous, like the only thing keeping his in his seat was Lance and Percy on either side of him holding him down. 

“Miss Elena Gawant, you have been accused of using enchantments and witchcraft which is expressly prohibited under the laws of Camelot and the laws of God. Have you anything to say in your own defense?” Uther asked dryly, barely lifting his gaze from the paper he was studying. 

“The innocent need no defense.” Arthur was shocked by the fierceness of her voice as she spoke. She still looked as though she would fall over any minute, but her chin was raised and her eyes glimmered with defiance and unshed tears. 

“You proclaim innocence! How dare you make a mockery of this court!” Aredian exploded from his seat, sending the chair skidding backward loudly. “We have a witness to your corruption.” 

“Who would speak lies against me?” Elena gasped, twisting on unsteady feet to find the traitor in the crowd. 

Morgana pushed up from the bench timidly, gaze turned to the floor rather than Elena’s eyes. “I saw Elena consorting with the devil.” 

“Liar!” Elena shrieked, rushing toward Morgana looking for all the world like she wanted to shake the truth out of her accuser. Morgana flinched back at her advance and Elena didn’t dare take another step as the crowd gasped and tittered. Morgana had always been strong willed, a trait in a woman that made others take notice. To see her shrink back with so much fright from the woman on trial was a powerful sight. One that Arthur knew beyond doubt was manufactured. 

Elena was sweet in a wild way, but she would never hurt anyone, anyone but herself with her own clumsiness. But why in heaven’s name would Morgana fake this? Morgana wouldn’t shrink from the devil himself. Yet, she was endeavoring to convince the entire town that Elena was worse. 

The memory of Merlin’s confession about Morgana pushed itself to the front of his mind but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Arthur’s eyes flicked over to Merlin and the sight shocked him. His pinched concern had smoothed away to resignation, as if the wheels had been set into motion long ago and he knew there was nothing any of them could do to stop it. Morgause stood up suddenly, pushing off Mordred’s hands as he tried to hold her back from rushing to stand beside Morgana in front of everyone. 

“It’s true! I’ve seen the way the devil wraps his hands around her and she embraces him like a lover.” Morgause said. She had pushed forward, past Morgana who was still keeping up the steady flow of tears. “She holds his favor and nothing short of execution will protect us from his vengeful wrath.” 

“Please! I-I would never! I couldn’t-”

“There can be no more delay.” Aredian assured everyone, turning sharp eyes onto Uther who was sat back in his chair, shocked at how quickly things had devolved.

“Father, you can’t pass judgement so quickly. There is a young woman’s life at stake.” Arthur leaned in so only Uther could hear him speak but the other man shot him a stern glare. 

“The hand of justice is swift and unflinching in the face of truth.” Uther said, standing and leaning on his hands splayed on the surface of the table. He was measuring Elena with that gaze Arthur was all too familiar with, and his conclusion was less than favorable.

Panic was pushing its way up his chest and squeezing around his racing heart. He knew he had to do something before Uther could pass his judgement. For Merlin, in defense of those unfortunate enough to be born with magic. For Gwaine, who was straining against the grip of his friends in the fourth row, struggling to come to the defense of the woman he loved. For Elena, who was seeing with wide eyes those who would pass judgement on her and finding no mercy.

“In what manner did you witness Elena consorting with the devil? Were you with him as well or did you just happen to be peering through her window? Perhaps you came upon her in the woods consorting with him, but that begs the question what were the two of you ladies doing alone in the woods?” Arthur’s voice cut through the noise, bringing silence in its wake. He could tell by the wide eyes and curious gazes that they were all surprised to hear him speak at all. He’d been silent so far in all the proceedings, trusting his father’s judgement. But if there were ever a time to speak up, it was now. 

Uther had been staring at him, rage building with his shock that Arthur would dare interrupt his trial. Then the questions that he’d posed seemed to sink in, and he turned that shocked rage, softened by doubt, onto Morgana.

She had moved straight past shock and was just burning hateful eyes into him. So focused on glaring at Arthur, she startled when Uther said, all patience gone, “Answer the question.”

“It hardly matters how they saw this wickedness. They saw it and have sworn to their statement.” Aredian said.

“Then it should not be too much trouble to get a complete statement.” Arthur argued and was swiftly cut with a glare from his father which sent him slumping back to his seat. He’d done all that he could, given Elena just a little more time and one last shred of hope, but his father wouldn’t hear more from him. The man could only suspend his obstinacy for so long. 

“The witch will never let me speak the truth of the matter.” Morgana said with a quiver in her voice. “She sends her spirit out of her body to serve her wicked deeds. Even now it circles overhead waiting for its command to silence me should I reveal too much.”

The low hum rushed through the onlookers as they all turned their eyes upward to follow Morgana’s gaze. Even Elena looked up, eyes wide with fear, searching for the spirit she hadn’t been aware of. Then she caught herself and snapped her gaze back to Uther. “No, I can’t send out my spirit. Please. I wouldn’t.”

“Fear will stay my lips no longer!” Morgana shouted up to the rafters. When she leveled her gaze back to them once more, she rushed forward frantically words pouring from her lips but they were indistinguishable in her haste. And just before her outstretched hands could come to rest on the opposite side of their table, she flew backward through the air as if she’d been gripped by the waist and tossed away like a doll. She crashed back to the floor ten feet away in the aisle between the pews and several people rushed to help her stand. She shook with sobs in their arms.

“Stop this, witch!” Morgause shrieked, dashing up to Elena and gripping her by the arms. “Release her from-” Her imploring was cut off suddenly, her grip on the other woman slackened. She fell to the ground with a moan, blood seeping from the corners of her eyes. 

“No! It wasn’t me! Please!” Elena sobbed. Knees finally buckling beneath her, she fell to a heap on the floor. Her pleas never stopping just growing softer until she at last spoke, barely a breath, “Someone please believe me.”

Through the chaos, Uther shouted, “Seize her!”

Leon’s eyes were downcast as he stepped forward at the command. He knelt beside Elena and tried to stir her so she could walk on her own if she wished, but she didn’t move. 

“You have revealed yourself, witch! You shall be executed within the hour.” Uther said.

“No!”  A voice ripped from the crowd, unable to be contained any longer. Gwaine broke  forward, snarling rage contorting his amiable features.  He was barreling straight toward Uther, violence gleaming in his eyes, with Lance and Percy chasing after him. Arthur shoved out from behind the table and caught him around the chest before he could make it halfway. He fought against him like an unruly beast, but Arthur managed to drag him backward far enough to deliver him into the arms of friends. 

“Get him out of here.” Arthur snapped, and they complied as quickly as they could with Gwaine shouting and fighting them every step of the way. 

He looked back to Leon who had watched the exchange with furrowed brows, guilt wreaking havoc on him. Leon and Gwaine had never been close friends, one strict and the other uninhibited, but everyone in their circle were like brothers and Gwaine and Leon were no exception. He had orders though, and Arthur could see hims struggle with them even as he gently gathered Elena in his arms.

Arthur was weary as Elena was led outside, the townspeople crowding after her. For the first time since he’d come to Camelot and taken on some of the responsibility of upholding the law from his father, he did not stand beside him. He found Merlin at the back of the throng, tears streaming silently down his face, and stood beside him as Elena stumbled up the steps of the gallows.

He watched, dazed, as Reverend Monmouth led Elena in a short prayer and the rope was draped around her neck. She is a sorcerer and sorcerers are evil, he told himself, Sorcerers should be hanged. Over and over again until the words lost all meaning. Merlin’s arm was brushing against his as his chest shook with fragmented sobs. He is a sorcerer. 

For a moment Arthur saw Merlin up there, staring into the crowd with unseeing, tear-burned eyes. Saw Merlin’s neck snap as gravity dragged him down. Saw the rope bounce once before it settled to swing the corpse it held like a pendulum. Saw the color of those bright blue eyes stay the same but snap suddenly cold and empty.    

Arthur’s hand shot out, clutching at Merlin’s arm, scrambling for any kind of connection he could get. His breath was coming in harsh pants and his eyes stayed locked on the gallows as they fought to refocus on reality. Sorcerers are evil and should be hanged, his mind taunted. But sorcerer or not, he would not be able to stand seeing Merlin swinging from that rope.

Watching as the floor dropped out from under Elena was like a punishment for the betrayal of his faith. Sorcerers were evil and he would do anything to stop this one from meeting his due end. So he forced himself to watch, all the time trying to convince himself that this was the way it was supposed to be. 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Merlin and Arthur were left in the square long after the crowd dissipated, people drifting off to return to work. Gaius had stepped forward, to look after the body. He’d almost asked for Merlin’s assistance, but one look at the younger man set him to work alone. 

The hand that had circled his wrist disappeared a few minutes after it had appeared and Merlin found himself mourning the loss along with everything else. It had been a steady warm weight, cuffing him to reality. Without it, his mind floated away to the events of the last week. Eighteen people were dead. Eight had lost their lives. Ten had stood trial and lost. Eighteen lives lost because of magic. 

More than anything he wished there was something he could do. The urge to put a stop to this, to end the suffering, growled deep within him but he was out of his depths. Uther would never stop putting people on trial with Aredian and Morgana urging him on. 

There was nothing he could do for them now, but he did have a friend who he could help, if only marginally. He walked with Arthur, who must’ve been having similar thoughts, to the Rising Sun. He was tempted to stop for a drink, but Gwaine was in the room he rented upstairs and he needed friends right now more than Merlin needed a drink. 

He knocked twice out of propriety, but pushed through the door without waiting for a reply. He’d been here so many times before, but the place was unfamiliar to him now, drenched in sorrow. The table beside the bed had been overturned. Broken pieces of glass were scattered across the floor from the shattered lantern. The room was small to begin with but it was crowded now with friends trying to console Gwaine, and trying to stay out of his way. 

Arthur hesitated outside the door, unsure if he’d be welcome, but Merlin tugged him in anyway. There was only one way to find out. 

Gwaine poured everyone a strong drink and took a hearty pull from the bottle himself before dropping it to the floor carelessly. Amber liquid sloshed around the bottle as it shook, fighting to regain balance, but it tipped and the liquor dripped onto the floorboards. 

It was nice to see that some things never changed. Even after everything that’s happened, Gwaine still believed anything could be fixed with a strong whiskey. 

The six of them sat around the small room, finding a seat wherever they could. Percy, and Gwaine sat side by side on the bed. Leon on the windowsill. Lance had tipped an old suitcase on its side to use as a sort of bench. Merlin had gone to claim the rickety chair in the corner but Arthur beat him to it, looking up at him with that smug entitlement that Merlin hated. So he perched himself on the arm of the chair, crowding into his space.

They made their way through several bottles, reminiscing over those they’d lost and listening to Gwaine rail about how unfair it all was. He almost seemed to be doing better when he stopped his pacing and plopped back down on the bed with a sigh, “I miss her.”

“Gwaine, I’m so sorry-” Leon said. Gwaine slammed his glass down on the table, which had been righted some time during the last few hours. 

“Don’t you dare.” He snapped. “You don’t get to be sorry! You don’t get to drag them to the gallows and then just wash your hands of it. All of those innocent people, their blood is on your hands just as much as it’s on the Judge’s.”

Merlin glanced back and saw Arthur had grown eerily still in his seat as Gwaine continued to snarl at Leon, who looked like he would crumble under the weight of his guilt.

“It’s not his fault. I should’ve done more to stop it.” Arthur said, standing to pull the attention from Leon. “And for that I’m sorry.”

“Oh shut it! At least you tried!” Gwaine threw out a wild hand to gesture to Leon, “This bootlicker didn’t even bother to question his orders.”

Leon kept his expression still, even as his guilt smothered him. Gwaine didn’t give any ground, just stood there fuming until Lance put a hand on Leon’s shoulder and said, “Come on. Let’s go get a drink downstairs” and led him away. 

The door clicked closed behind them, and Gwaine slumped back on the mattress, all the fight going out of him at once. He sighed, a bone-deep-weary sigh escaping him. Percy leaned over and poured him another drink, handing it to him with a pat on the shoulder.  

Arthur was staring at the floor, jaw clenched tightly. Merlin was about to put a hand on his back, maybe silently asking him to sit down or maybe just because his hands were always itching to reach out for him, when Arthur burst out of his stillness and stormed from the room. The walls quaked for a moment after he slammed the door behind him. 

The others turned their questioning gazes on him, but Merlin didn’t have any better explanation for them. He shrugged, “I’ll go see what that was about.” 

Merlin caught him in the stairwell, stopping him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Arthur?”

“I can’t take any more of this. Elena didn’t have magic. Who knows how many of the others didn’t either but…damn it, it doesn’t matter. All those people, they never hurt anyone. They couldn’t have been evil just because they had magic could they?”

Merlin was stunned, by Arthur’s frantic thoughts he’d never dared to entertain, by his whole being buzzing with righteous anger. For _sorcerers_. His eyes were blazing and they were burning up into Merlin’s, filling him up with hope that scared him more than anything else. 

“What are you going to do?” He asked cautiously, not daring to let any of his rising hope color his tone, not letting anything color his tone for fear of jarring Arthur out of this strange mood that had come over him. 

“I’m going to my father. I have to put a stop to this.” He nearly shouted, his voice bouncing back in the tight quarters. 

Merlin took a step down so they were level, unable to hold back his elation any longer. He wanted to leap into the air, and pull Arthur into a hug, and maybe shout his joy from the top of his lungs. The stairwell they were standing in was far too small for any of those things except maybe the hug.

“It never should’ve taken me this long to see it.” Arthur said, and it sounded like an apology. It was the best thing Merlin had ever heard. 

“Thank you.” He smiled, wrapping him into a hug. 

Arthur huffed a laugh against Merlin’s neck. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

The breath of air sent tiny shivers down his back.

“Doesn’t matter.” Merlin pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. The other man’s body had gone completely still against his, not even breath moved in his chest. 

Arthur’s eyes stayed locked with Merlin’s for a moment longer before they flicked down to his lips. In these rare moments Merlin was allowed to touch, he never could resist taking more than he’d been given. His hand brushed against Arthur’s back, teasing a shudder out of him, and came to rest on the back of his neck. 

The breath slammed back into Arthur all at once with a gasp, and the sudden rush of air in his lungs made their chests brush, breaching the minuscule distance between them.

“I should,” Arthur tried, but his voice was thick and garbled. He had to clear his throat before he spoke again. “I should go.” 

Merlin nodded, feeling the still air stir between their lips. He was captivated by the sharp puffs of breath against his chin and the way Arthur’s eyes were fighting to stay locked with his but couldn’t help dropping down every now and then. 

“Merlin.” He swallowed thickly. The candle light flickered across the skin of his neck as Arthur said his name.

“Right.” Merlin laughed, but it came out deep and rasping and slightly hysterical. It was almost painful as he tore himself away. He had to climb a few stairs to put enough space between them so he could breath properly without the scent of Arthur clouding his senses. He was still breathing heavily, watching Arthur’s back as he descended the stairs. 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

“Doesn’t it bother you that the confessions are given under duress?” Arthur pressed. He called it dinner with his father but he could hardly stomach the food. From the moment he stepped into the man’s house he’d been nearly begging his father to see sense. He couldn’t stay silent any longer. Not when he saw Merlin growing paler each day, smiles growing more rare. Not when people he knew to be innocent were dying every day. 

“Those who have strayed from the path of God are always under duress.” Uther answered simply, taking another unhurried bite of stew.

“Yes but if the penalty for denying the accusations is death, how can we know who is innocent?”

“The innocent have nothing to fear from justice.” 

Arthur ground his teeth to keep from shouting at his father. That would do nothing to help his case. “You have signed ten death warrants in half the number of days, father.” 

Uther heaved a sigh and set his cup down with a solid clunk to punctuate his irritation. “We’re doing God’s work, Arthur. Unless you have something you’d like to confess about your allegiances, then I will hear no more of it.” 

“Very well.” Arthur snapped, shoving up from the table. “Then you will hear no more of me.”

“I expect to see you to do some real work when this temper tantrum you’re throwing is over.” 

Arthur’s only reply was the slamming door. 

He stormed down the street, not ready to go home quite yet. He had been with his father for hours, his attempts at subtly slowly degrading into outright shouting. 

He wanted to confide his frustrations to Gwen but she had barely spoken a handful of words to him since dinner the night before. In a way he was grateful, and he could tell even through the silence that she was as well. They could finally stop pretending.

There was only one other person he could vent his anger to for just a little while until he calmed down enough to crawl into bed. His body turned toward Merlin’s instinctively but he didn’t know if he could face the man with bad news.

Merlin had been so surprised, relieved, grateful. The last thing Arthur wanted to see was all that fade to disappointment. But even with that doubt weighing on his mind, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather go. 

He arrived a few minutes later, and he found Gaius to be out. The physician was likely at Arthur’s home at the moment. He’d come every night around this time to see how Elyan was progressing. Elyan had been released from the physician’s quarters but not entirely from his care as he was still too weak to look after himself.

Arthur crossed the empty room toward the stairs.

He’d barely seen Merlin in the months before their trip together in the woods. Before everything happened, it wouldn’t have been unusual for them to spend their days in one another’s company, Merlin following him around as he attended his duties and Arthur sitting with him while he studied from Gaius’s medical books. They’d lost that in the distance the last few months had put between them, but the separation had given him something new. With it came a entirely new awareness of the man. 

The man who he’d always seen as bookish was actually quite strong. The clumsy fool was brave enough to run after him into a raging fire. And the wiry frame felt good pressed up against him. 

Arthur climbed the few steps to reach Merlin’s bedroom door, a low noise filtering through the thick wood. A noise he’d been haunted by for nearly a week now since the last time he’d been alone in Merlin’s room in the dark. A deep, rasping moan that came from somewhere low in Merlin’s chest and sent thrills of lightening somewhere even lower in Arthur as the sound washed over him. 

For a brief moment Arthur wondered if he’d accidentally just walked into an intimate moment between Merlin and a woman. The thought clutched his insides in a vice grip. But no, he could see through the crack in the door now, Merlin was alone, nearly naked, stretched out across his bed, hand thrust into his open trousers sliding over his hard length lazily. Every arc of that pale wrist sent a shudder through his outstretched body.

Arthur watched captivated by his movements, eyes flickering everywhere in between the trail of nimble fingers and flushed lips parted in pleasure. Arthur’s throat was dry even through the several thick swallows he attempted, unable to tear his gaze away from the slow drag of Merlin’s hand. The sound of skin brushing against skin nearly undetectable but Arthur found himself straining to hear it anyway.

His brain was dull, screaming somewhere in the background to get out of there now but most of the blood had run south as he watched Merlin’s muscles ripple and his jaw go slack from pleasure.

“Oh, Arthur…” Merlin groaned, hand gripping himself tightly in a quick flash of movement. 

His whole body clenched with the sharp jolt of panic for a moment, sure that Merlin had caught him. But no, Merlin didn’t see Arthur behind the closed door, he saw him behind closed eyelids. And that was…that was…very good. Not good at all.

Merlin was picturing a man in throes of his passion. Merlin was picturing _him,_ probably seeing Arthur’s hand instead of his, maybe feeling Arthur’s lips. It sent a shiver down his spine. 

The depth of this perversion…and the depth of his own hypocrisy at even having the thought. How often had Arthur done just the same? Even worse because he wasn’t just unfaithful to God, he was unfaithful to Gwen. Even if it was just Merlin. Even if it was just in his mind. 

The man was a deviant. It was the only way to explain it. He’d been dragging Arthur into temptation from the very beginning. Maybe an offering from the devil himself but Arthur couldn’t accept. No matter how much he wanted. 

Arthur shoved away from the door and nearly tripped down the steps in his hurry to escape. He went to the only place he knew that could help him now. He went to the church and knelt before the alter of his creator, body still singing in reaction to Merlin like some kind of cruel cosmic joke. 

All that talk of God and sin at the tavern and that look that Merlin had given him in the stairwell… He’d seen varying shades of that look over the last few months but he’d never seen it that strongly. That hunger he saw in his eyes, never more apparent than in what he’d just witnessed, like Merlin wanted to drag him to the ground and devour him right there. Heat crashed through Arthur at the thought of Merlin’s mouth on him. 

He didn’t know what’s gotten into him, what brazen part of his brain was supplying him with these horrible tantalizing thoughts that he had no business having. He’d never thought of anyone like this before. He barely thought of his _wife_ this way. But there was something about Merlin, something that knocked him off kilter and gave him no chance of ever regaining balance. Before, when both Arthur and Gwen came to the realization that they hadn’t laid together in a time, he pulled her into his arms. There was always this image in the back of his mind, though. If he lost himself to his musings, he closed his eyes and it was Merlin against him, burning him with that look of pure hunger that he couldn’t see but he knew was there.

It worried him, as of late, that he’d laid with Merlin in his mind more times than he laid with Gwen in all the time they’d been married. Any good christian would say it was ungodly, but it had become such a regular occurrence that he could barely finish without the thought of Merlin’s heavy blue eyes on him.

As good as it felt in the moment, he was so caught up afterwards in the guilt from his unclean thoughts that in the last few weeks he hadn’t found the strength in him to reach for Gwen at all. He’d been unsure about that at first, but she hardly seemed to mind. It made him wonder if there was someone she thought of when she was with him. But he really didn’t want to know the answer to that.

For two months he’d been plagued with this sickness that didn’t feel anything like sickness. For months, as much as he’d tried to push it aside, he’d craved this man in a way no man should crave another. And god help him for the man he craved. If accepting Merlin’s magic without retribution didn’t send Arthur straight to the pits of hell, this lust surely would. 

He had peace from intruders through the night-except Reverend Monmouth who walked in and discovered him but he retreated without a word-if only he’d had peace from his own mind. He recited every piece of scripture he could think of, and when he’d ran out, he spoke to god like he would speak to a father and begged him for redemption for his impropriety.

His reaction to seeing Merlin that way, the urge to push through the door to fall into Merlin’s embrace terrified him. But what scared him most was that kneeling here even in this holy place with God’s name on his lips, he regretted walking away. 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur wasn’t feeling any more clear-headed than he had the night before but he’d finally made a decision. He needed to find Merlin and he couldn’t let anyone find him here like this. He didn’t have any kind of reasonable explanation.

Pushing into the antechamber to make a subtle exit from the church through the back door, he froze, nearly treading on the figure sprawled out on the floor before him. 

“Merlin?” He snapped, nudging the man with the tip of his boot. 

He woke quickly but blearily, staring up at Arthur. “G’Morning. Gwen told me you were here. Said Geoffrey told her you were in the midst of a spiritual crisis or something.” He pushed to his feet as he spoke, rubbing at his eyes to clear the sleep away from them.

“Why did you come?” Arthur tried to keep his voice neutral, tried not to give away any hint of what he’d seen the night before and the subsequent “crisis” it had sent him to. But all his rough thoughts softened at Merlin’s next words, too weary to be insincere.

“I didn’t want you to feel you were alone.”  
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut as raw emotions tore through him.

Merlin was…Merlin was unlike anyone he’d ever known. He called him names but trusted him with his secrets like a friend. He’d always been there when Arthur needed him, sharing his pain or dragging him out of it with a few well placed insults and a smile. He’d stayed the night on the floor in a drafty church because he’d heard Arthur might’ve been troubled. That kind of loyalty was unmatched, and largely undeserved. And he could see it for what it was, an act of love. But what had Arthur ever done to deserve Merlin’s love, let alone friendship that never wavered even when Arthur was looking at him with fear and suspicion?

Merlin was compassionate to those who’d condemn him. He had the power to level mountains but he didn’t wish to wield it. It was fear that stopped Merlin from accepting his own magic. Was fear the only thing stopping Arthur from seeing that what he’d wanted was right in front of him? He’d never thought himself a coward until that moment. 

He knew he should walk away. It was the right thing to do. He’d made up his mind to just minutes ago. He couldn’t. He wanted Merlin. He wanted him so badly he could barely breath but more than that, he loved him. And admitting that was signing a contract with the devil. Yet, when he looked into those blue eyes that were staring back at him with a warning, with a dare, with a plea, he was lost. He was wagering an eternity in hell, but Merlin was worth every burn.

 

Merlin was unprepared for the ferocity of the kiss as Arthur pinned him to the wall with his body.

“Arthur!” He gasped, tipping his head back to escape the heat of his lips. He tried to suck in a breath of cool air, but the scent of Arthur surrounded him, the firm weight of his body pressing in, the warmth of his breath caressing his neck. “This is a sin. We can’t do this.”

“If this is sin,” Arthur breathed, hands slipping from Merlin’s neck, to tangle in his hair. “I would gladly wallow in hellfire for all eternity for a single taste of your lips.”   

“Don’t say things like that,” Merlin’s tone had gone frantic. He gripped the front of Arthur’s shirt tightly, trying to impress upon him the weight of his words. The thought of Arthur in hell for him, _because of him,_ made him nauseous. 

“I thought this was what you wanted.” Arthur seemed to falter, shifting his weight a bit uncertainly but not moving away.

“It is.” Merlin groaned, dropping his head so his forehead rested against Arthur’s. He couldn’t let this happen. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more, and one Arthur would surely regret later if he let this happen. He wouldn’t be able to look at Merlin, might even hate him. And Merlin couldn’t lose him, not for just a moment’s indulgence. Arthur was worth more to him than that. He was everything. 

“Then kiss me.” 

Merlin nearly whimpered at the challenge in Arthur’s voice, knees melting at the rough sound of the words.

“I didn’t think you were prone to fits of poetry but a single taste of my lips you said.” Merlin forced a laugh but it came out weak and breathless. He was so close to breaking. This had to end, now, but his hands were still twisted in the fabric of his shirt, unable to let go just yet. “Don’t get greedy.”

Arthur pulled back, studying Merlin for what felt like ages before his face changed. It’s like he was seeing Merlin for the first time, and understanding smoothed his features. “You’re afraid.” He said simply, and Merlin slumped against the wall. 

He hadn’t realized how much his body had been straining to touch Arthur’s until it was a few feet away. Now the wall was the only thing keeping him on his feet, his mind busy kicking itself for not seizing probably the one chance he would ever have to kiss Arthur, and he didn’t have any strength left to argue. “Of course I’m afraid. I’m afraid of a god that would judge the deaths of innocent people as just. I’m afraid that my friends will find out about my magic and condemn me. I’m afraid of the way I feel about you and that if you ever found out how much I really care, you’d condemn me too. I’m full of so much doubt and fear and magic and sin. I’m afraid that I’m a monster.” 

Arthur was still as he listened, only shaking his head a few times after Merlin had finished and scrunched up his eyes behind balled fists. 

“You’re not a monster,” He said and Merlin let out a single bark of humorless laughter. “Think about it, Merlin. You were born this way. God is kind and merciful and He wouldn’t make you this way if it were evil.”

“And if it wasn’t God who made me?” Merlin snapped, yanking his hands away from his face to fist at his sides. 

Arthur looked speculative for a moment then shrugged, “Then you don’t have to worry about being evil or doing evil things do you? If there’s only one place you can end up.” 

Despite himself, Merlin’s mouth slid into a smile that Arthur mirrored almost immediately. Hearing his fears fall from Arthur’s lips made it all seem so frivolous. Could the God Arthur spoke of really exist? It wasn’t the god he inherited from his mother, or the one he heard spoken of in church at mass. The one who persecuted the wicked, accepted none but the most devout into his kingdom. Merlin never could’ve imagined Arthur thinking this way, rejecting that harsh god, so loyal was he to his father, but there he was looking earnest and a little unsure, trying to find answers for himself as well as for Merlin.   

He took a few measured steps forward, not entirely sure until he was in front of Arthur again. The words didn’t lift all the tension and indecision that had been weighing on Merlin as Arthur was probably trying to accomplish but it did make up his mind. It told him just how much Arthur had been considering this, how much he wanted this more than just a single heated moment of proximity. Merlin dipped his head and shivered when their lips connected. 

Arthur stayed carefully still, only his mouth moving in time with Merlin’s, letting him set the pace. Which probably wasn’t the best idea. Given half the chance and explicit permission, both of which he had, Merlin wouldn’t pull away until they were nothing but puddles mingling on the floor. 

Neither of them could say for certain if their feelings were sinful. Only one could know the will of God and Merlin doubted they’d get word from Him. Sorcery, Adultery, Homosexuality. Such ugly words he’d been taught to fear from a young age, but when Merlin thought of Arthur, they lost their sting. Merlin knew that what he wanted wasn’t right, but he knew that his soul was made to be tethered to Arthur’s, and he desperately wanted to stop pretending he didn’t. 

These parts of himself that he’d shoved aside or tried to smother away, they made him sure he was bent for Hellfire. But Arthur knew every dark corner of his soul and wanted him anyway. And if Arthur saw him for what he really was andwanted him anyway, how bad could he be, _really_?

Merlin pulled at Arthur’s elbows until his arms were wrapped loosely around his waist. That seemed to be all he needed. Arthur dove forward like he was coming alive again, and guided Merlin backward by the lips. But Merlin wasn’t going to be pushed around so easily this time. Hands locked around Arthur’s wrists, he spun them both until it was Arthur who was pinned between a body and the wall. 

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur broke away a little shocked, but Merlin caught his jaw in both hands and 

caught the rest of his protest with his tongue. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, hands scrabbling along Merlin’s back until they slipped under the hem of his shirt.

The tension he’d been hauling around with him for days, months-no he’d been carrying this weight all his life, certain that there was no one in the world who could accept him let alone hold him like _this-_ it all melted away under Arthur’s tongue teasing his mouth open. 

Merlin gasped as Arthur nipped at the curve of his lip, the jolt of it fizzled through him, heat seeping down to his fingertips. The hands smoothing down his back were cold, sending goosebumps across his skin. He couldn’t focus on the kiss, couldn’t manage to keep his lips moving as those hands move down, down, to grip tightly at his ass. 

A moan escaped Merlin. It sounded too loud in his own ears, but Arthur’s mouth fell open and he was breathing so heavily, each ending in a rattling in his chest that was nearly a growl. It made Merlin’s entire body throb with need. He wanted so badly to drag that sound out of his throat, hear that growl curl out of Arthur’s lips and shake Merlin's bones, but he couldn’t. They were still in the antechamber of the church, and besides the irony Merlin couldn’t fully appreciate in his state, they were exposed for anyone to find. Still, his body ached. 

Merlin’s hips stuttered, grinding himself into Arthur to find some kind of relief. The pressure of cock against cock, even through layers of fabric, forced Arthur’s head back, a strangled shout torn from his chest. 

“Shh” Merlin hissed and pressed his fingers over Arthur’s mouth, rocking his hips against Arthur’s again. It made his breath stutter.

Arthur moaned against his hand. His head slumped back against the wall, and he rolled his hips with the movement when Merlin did it again. The sounds he made. Merlin dragged his lips along Arthur’s throat, reveling in the way it trembled under his touch. 

The warm, wet touch against his fingers startled Merlin and he nearly pulled his hand away from Arthur’s face reflexively, but he look up and the sight made him press harder against him with a whimper. Arthur teased the hand pressed against his lips, his tongue swirling around the pads of Merlin’s fingers. Each stroke was rougher than the last, like he wanted Merlin to keep trembling against him. 

Merlin’s free hand shook as he scrabbled at Arthur’s belt. The buckle wouldn’t come undone no matter how much he fought against it. He was about to take his hand from Arthur’s grasp and tear the thing off him but then Arthur sucked two fingers into his mouth and all Merlin could do was groan. 

The sound of a heavy door being thrown open and colliding with the wall sent them flying apart. Both head’s snapped to the door but it was firmly closed and Merlin willed his heart start beating again. Arthur pushed past him, lips kiss-swollen and hair sticking up at in strange angles that made Merlin’s lips curl in a vague smile. He peered through the cracked door, and when he spun back to face Merlin, his face was closed off.

“The townspeople have arrived to conduct official court business.”

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

The church was once again packed with curious and apprehensive onlookers, each chittering lowly under their breath so the massive place was filled with a dull hum of noise. When they had composed themselves as best they could and slunk out of the antechamber, Merlin had found Gaius and sat beside him in one of the closer rows without another glance in Arthur’s direction. That in itself would’ve made Arthur nervous, but he caught a glimpse of a secretive smile curling the edge of his mouth just for him. So he turned attention to the figures on display.

Morgana looked small. Smaller than Arthur has ever seen her before. When they were young, she would run around in a distinctly un-ladylike manner. She would call him names and when she fell down or scraped her knee, she just lifted her chin stoically and batted away any hands that tried to help her up. But now she was hunched in the chair at the front of the church. She didn’t meet anyone’s eye, even when the other men spoke softly and gave her time to collect herself before answering. Arthur was struck with the thought that the woman before him wasn’t Morgana at all.

“We have discovered eleven witches thanks to your testimony.” Aredian said. “Is there any more information you can give us?”

“I-” Morgana started but shook her head with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Aredian just nodded and for a brief moment, Arthur was astounded at how easily Aredian made the transformation from hardened interrogator to gentle confidant. “You said you were plagued with nightmares of the devil’s making. Have those ended since the death of the witch Mary Collins?”

She took a watery breath and shook her head. “The dreams, I’ve had them for months and I fear they will be with me until death. No treatment can stop them, no heavenly mercy will stop the horrible things I see.”

“You have prayed for an end to the dreams?”

“Yes. I pray every night before I sleep. I praise God and beg to be released of this  punishment but to no avail.”

“You say you attempted treatment? Who is it who treats you?”

“Gaius, the physician.” She said. There was confusion in her voice and she looked up for the first time, brows knit together, her entire face a question. 

“And since he began treating you have the nightmares gotten better or worse?” 

Arthur watched as the the lines smoothed from her face and understanding light up in her eyes even though she kept her features still. The knot of tension in his stomach was growing heavier and his eyes flicked between Morgana and Gaius. The old man had his head raised proudly, even though beside him Merlin had gone deathly pale. 

The general din had stilled as they all watched Morgana. And _there_ was the girl he knew, dragging out the moment and soaking up every bit of drama she could from it until she sighed daintily, and said, “Worse.” 

 

Uther’s face had blanched, Merlin noticed, when Aredian started questioning Morgana about Gaius. As sick as it was, he got a little satisfaction from that. The man who was so intent on demonizing Merlin’s kind seeing one of his oldest and closest friends accused. The satisfaction lasted less than a second, though, because it was _Gaius_ and Morgana had all but blamed him for her nightmares. 

Over the last few days, Morgana had accused over thirty people. With Uther protecting her and Aredian hanging on her every word, she was invincible. And ten of those thirty people were dead now. 

Merlin wanted so badly to tell them what he’d seen that night in the woods. Morgana had been there and she hadn’t been possessed; he knew that much. But who would believe him now? They would only think it an act of fear because she held so much power, or an attempt to save Gaius from her accusations. 

It happened in a rush as he was still reeling from shock. Gaius was summoned into the antechamber by a very tense Uther. Aredian followed the pair of them into the privacy of the small room, though it was obvious he would’ve rather conducted the interview in front of everyone. Arthur was by his side a moment later, strong hand on his arm holding him gently and modestly for the hundreds of eyes around them, and asking if he was alright. 

“Just get in there.” Merlin begged, dragging his eyes from the door that had closed him off to Arthur’s eyes, wide, grave, and concerned. “Protect him. Please.” 

He gave a single nod and pushed to his feet. “I’ll try with everything I have.” He promised and disappeared into the antechamber. 

With Gaius and Arthur gone, and the church emptied, the people probably taking the opportunity for lunch during the brief intermission of the drama unfolding before their eyes. Merlin had nowhere to turn his attention to in attempts to focus on anything, but his jangled nerves. So he found his eyes resting on Morgana, still perched prettily in the small wooden chair at the front of the church.

There had been a time he would’ve counted them alike, their magic uniting them, but that had long since changed. He would never use his magic to hurt someone. How she could sit there and condemn an innocent man was beyond him. Her back should’ve been hunched under the burden of her sins. Guilt should’ve twisted her features into an unrecognizable mask of horror for all the evil she had done. But the reality was somehow worse, that she’d damned all those innocent people and felt not a drop of remorse. She was unlike any monster he’d ever read, the worst kind of evil, daintily wiping at her stray tears as she collected souls for her master. 

He shoved up from the bench before he could think better of it, stalking toward her as his sick desperation seeped away, replaced by cold anger. She watched him approach, that tiny little smirk she’d been trying her best to hide disappeared when she met his eye. 

“Merlin,” She started but was quickly cut off when he leaned down and grabbed the back of her chair, face inches from hers. 

“I know it was you.” He said, low enough for only her ears. “I saw you that night. Stop this now or I’ll make sure everyone here knows it too.”

“And why would anyone believe you?” She asked, sweet smile curving her blood red lips. 

Merlin felt like he was going to fall apart. His insides were quivering in a toxic mix of fear and rage and he was nearly sweating with the effort of keeping that trembling from his limbs as he stared her down. He knew she wouldn’t be threatened with a few words. She had so much power, beyond her magic which was a force to be reckoned with in and of itself, she had authority. With a single word, she could send someone to their death and she knew it. If it had been his own life at stake, he knew he would’ve backed down. But it wasn’t. 

This was Gaius, the man who’d taken him in when his mother sent him away and his home cast him aside. The man who’d feed him, taught him, and cared for him better than the father Merlin had never known. And when he’d found out about Merlin’s magic, he’d just pulled him into a hug and said, “My boy” so gently that Merlin cried. He lied for him a thousand times but never to him and if there was anyone in the world worth protecting, it was Gaius.

This was Gaius and if he had the power to save him, he would use it no matter the cost. 

“I can be very persuasive.” He assured her. Then drawing from the well of energy, churning, buried deep within him, he let the warmth of that buzzing energy spread through his limbs and felt his eyes flash gold. 

Morgana gasped. Leaning back sharply in her chair, her shoulder brushed against his hand still gripping the back of her chair and she jolted at the contact. He pulled back, confident she’d gotten the message, but her hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. 

“You’ll regret this, Merlin.” She said, eyes burning into his. Even though they stayed green, he felt the weight of her threat seep into his bones. He carried it with him as he walked away, cursing his own stupidity. He was as good as hanged.

 

Merlin stepped out of the church and into several arms. First there was Gwaine who threw an arm across his shoulders and pat his back ‘comfortingly’. Then Lance pushed him aside and caught Merlin before one of his comforting pats could send Merlin sprawling to the ground. Lance placed both hands on his shoulders, holding Merlin’s eye very seriously, he said, “It’s going to be alright.” Merlin nodded and was going to respond but then Gwen ducked under Lance’s arms, wrapping her own tightly around Merlin’s waist. 

He was surrounded by friends, ready to comfort him and stand by him as the man who was the closest thing he had to a father was on trial but he wished they weren’t there. His body was still vibrating from calling upon his magic and his muscles were straining for some kind of release. The last thing he wanted was for any of his friends to be hurt because he couldn’t control himself. 

He was too focused on holding onto his power, straining to keep his eyes blue, to protest when they swept him along in a wave toward home. 

When he pushed through the door, he took in Gaius’s empty room and all the strength and power that had boiled in him just moments before evaporated. He was left feeling very cold as he took in Gaius’s cot, blanket’s rumpled from that night, but empty. His chemistry apparatuses were a little smudged where Merlin hadn’t cleaned them properly, and he imagined them gathering dust. He carried himself the last few feet to a stool, where he collapsed and braced himself for the wave of emotion that came crashing over him. 

There was a very real possibility that Gaius wouldn’t come back, that he would never stand in this room again lecturing Merlin over a book of herbs or teaching him how to brew a potion. He could be dead within the hour and there was nothing Merlin could do about it. Well, nothing short of bursting in magic blazing to spirit Gaius away to some place they could be safe. 

But they’d already talked of leaving Camelot a few nights ago and Gaius had staunchly refused to leave. 

“This is my home and I’ll not leave it.” He’d said. Merlin wondered if he’d changed his mind since, wondered if he wished he’d run away while he’d had the chance. But what solution was that? Running away wouldn’t stop them from killing innocent people. Not like he was doing much to stop that as things were. But what could he do? For all his magic he was completely voiceless, completely powerless in the face of these people who enacted the will of God. 

His friends settled in to worry with him. He was going to drive them all out but he could see the concern creasing their faces-they were all fond of the physician as well-and he couldn’t  bring himself to run them off. Gwaine picked up the thread of ranting about injustice from the day before as he paced. Merlin just nodded along, watching the door and willing Gaius to come through it.

Lance stepped in and managed to shut Gwaine up, but then the conversation turned to Gaius’s ongoing trial in the antechamber and Merlin wished for Gwaine angry babble. 

Gwen came over and sat by him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The touch was light and it made the rough fabric of his shirtsleeve tickle against his skin. In a short, jerky movement he shrugged off her hand and scratched at the itch. Her hand hung in the air between them looking as dejected as her expression he could see out of the corner of his eye.  

“Merlin…” She said, but her voice trailed off and she pulled her hand back onto her lap.

“Last year, when my father was put on trial I was so upset I didn’t think I could go on with out him.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He snapped, his voice gurgling from deep in his throat.

“No, I just wanted you to know I understand what you’re going through.”

Merlin sighed and all his anger slipped away with the breath. “I’m sorry.”

Her hand reached out for him again and he took it, accepting the soothing touch.

As the light faded in the windows, Lance set about lighting the candles scattered around the house. When he rose from his chair, he tucked the brown knit cap that he’d been wringing in his hands since he sat down into the pocket of his trousers. Merlin thought absently about taking the hat, which must’ve been new for he’d never seen it before, and hanging it on one of the spare pegs by the door, but Gaius’s medicine bag was hanging there and Merlin wasn’t sure if he could stomach seeing it right then. 

As the others sat and talked, he snuck over to the table where he’d been hiding his book in plain sight. Flipping through spell after spell, he tried to come up with some idea to save Gaius instead of just sitting around and waiting but he was too frantic. There was nothing. He slammed the book shut and returned to his stool, fuming. 

“I’ll just whip up some supper, shall I?” Gwen said, pushing up from the stool she had claimed and making her way into the kitchen.

“I’ll help you.” Lance offered, following close behind.

“Of course you will.” Gwaine rolled his eyes.

It hardly mattered to Merlin. He would’ve sat in the dark and starved, glued to his seat by his own anxiety. All he cared about was Gaius coming home safe. 

Part of him was urging him to go back to the church. The cases of witches being hanged the same day as their trial were rare. It had only happened twice in the last week but the fact that it had happened at all was grinding at his nerves. He couldn’t stop himself imagining Gaius being led to the gallows and never getting to say goodbye because he’d made it to him too late. Arthur could come to him and warn him in time. But if Gaius was to be hanged, Merlin would want Arthur to stay there and fight for his life down to the last second. 

He had been working himself into a frenzy of worry for the last twenty minutes and was ready to spring from his chair and sprint across town to be by Gaius’s side when a knock at the door startled him from his musings. 

Leon slid back the latch, pulled open the door and there was Gaius, flanked by a weary Leon. Merlin flew from his seat and into the old man’s arms before he could make it through the door. 

“You’re alright? You’re free?” Merlin cried into the other man’s shoulder, unwilling to release him even to let him walk inside. 

“For now.” Gaius reassured him, rubbing his back soothingly. 

Merlin pulled away sharply, swiping under his nose and eying him with distrust. “What do you mean?”

“They are still discussing my fate, I’m afraid.” He said, leading Merlin inside. “Uther is unsure. Aredian is very persuasive.”

“And Arthur?”

“He’s shouting down the roof of the place.” Leon amusement and pride competing for their place on his features. 

Merlin smiled, a small laugh forcing its way through his lips. If only that were enough to save him. 

He watched Gaius make his way around the room, hugging everyone in turn as they all greeted him warmly. Most of the immediacy of his concern had burned off in his excitement to see him. Now he was left with a low subtle aching in his chest because they still had yet to know what the future held. It was easier to stand, though, knowing they would face it together. 

“Can I have a word with you?” Merlin asked quietly, after they had settled into their seats. When Gaius nodded, he led him across the room, beside the stairs.

“What is it Merlin?” 

“Let’s go. Right now. We could be halfway to Boston before they come out of that room with a decision.” Merlin rushed, hands clasping onto his shoulders. 

“Running away would only prove my guilt.”

“I don’t care about your good name, Gaius! I care about your neck and keeping it intact.”

“My mind has not changed and I believe you have your own reasons for wanting to stay.” Gaius quirked a brow and fixed him with a knowing look. 

Merlin sputtered mortified and a little scared at Gaius’ implication-he was not ready for that secret to come out to anyone-but the older man said nothing more about it. He just pushed past him and went back to the main room, asking after Elyan’s health. 

Gwen answered a little tentatively, but once Gaius sat beside her, her words came quickly. Merlin drifted in, taking his place once again but he didn’t try to engage in the conversation at all. His mind was still firmly stuck on what Gaius knew and wasn’t saying. And worse, if soon enough Gaius would even be around to know it and not say it.

The uncertainty hung heavy over them all, Gaius especially even though he reassured everyone that he was alright. Supper was eaten in near silence, only the sound of cutlery scraping against plates breaking it. 

Merlin wondered if the judges were eating now but decided they couldn’t be. What men could eat while they held the fate of a man’s life in their hands?

Three heavy knocks in quick succession snapped everyone from their still contemplations. Merlin was on his feet first, but Gaius was closer, pulling open the door before Merlin was halfway there. He wished he could’ve been the one to answer it. Gaius wouldn’t slam the door again if the news was bad, but Merlin would.

Arthur stood on the other side of the now open door. He was tense, his whole body a wound coil and every small movement showed he was ready to spring back and lash out. A sucking void opened up inside Merlin, all his hope and fear swallowed away until all that was left was sick certainty that Gaius is going to die. 

Gaius didn’t know him well enough to see what Merlin did in Arthur, gesturing him forward and asking, “The news?”

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to disguise some of the anger that was shaking within him. Merlin saw it though, and his assumptions were only confirmed. So sure was he by what he saw in Arthur’s stance, that Merlin was nearly knocked over by Arthur’s tense smile and the reassuring hand he placed on Gaius’ shoulder. “All is well. You’re no longer under suspicion. I convinced my father that your treatments and Morgana’s worsening condition was nothing but a coincidence.” 

“People have died for much less.” Gaius said, not to anyone in particular. 

“I know.” Arthur answered anyway, eyes flicking to Merlin.

But for once Merlin didn’t care. The thought of all those innocent people that were lost at the hands of the church didn’t move his rage. All he cared about was that Gaius was going to be alright. That Gaius was safe and Arthur had saved him. 

Merlin would’ve barreled in to Gaius if the man hadn’t had the sense to move out of the way. So he only barreled into Arthur, arms winding their way to a familiar place around his waist. 

“Thank you.” Merlin breathed over and over again into the hair tickling his cheek and lip. Arthur leaned into the contact, hands skimming over Merlin’s shoulders and down his back, sending chills through him and a fresh reminder of the last time they were in a similar position. But Arthur pulled away, smiling a little ruefully at Merlin.

“You’ve no need to thank me. Gaius never should’ve been threatened,” He said, eyes darting around the room to the others an instant reminder of the company. Merlin peeled himself away from Arthur, cold seeping into him once again in the places where their bodies had been connected just a moment before.  

“What happened?” Gwen asked, drawing both men’s guilty attention to her. “Leon said there was shouting.” 

Arthur gave a bitter laugh that was sharp edged. “A kind understatement. There was enough screaming from stubborn men to make us all look like petulant children. I reminded them all that Gaius as been a pillar of the community for years and that the only things killing him would accomplish are killing an innocent man and frightening the townspeople into distrusting even the upstanding authority. That changed my father’s mind rather quickly.”

“Once it’s his own neck.” Merlin grumbled. Arthur snapped his head around like he was going to reprimand him but stayed his tongue before the words were formed. As they stared at each other, Merlin realized Arthur had stopped himself for more than just Merlin’s sake. He didn’t want to defend his father anymore, a man he’d idolized since birth, because he was confronted with his flaws suddenly and in the worst way imaginable. Merlin could see a little part of Arthur crumbling and he regretted his words so deeply he considered using magic to turn back time to take them back and make sure that he never caused Arthur to hurt in such a way again. 

“Arthur, I’m-” 

“Don’t. He said gruffly. 

The whole room was silent and stuck in the this awkward moment along with the two of them, as Arthur wrestled his emotions stoically, and Merlin tried to pour his out without speaking a word. 

“Well now all the suspense is over I am going to bed.” Gaius said, after watching the two of them for a long moment with raised brows. “Out. All of you.”

Leon and Lance were on their feet without anymore prompting. Each had brief moments of goodbye with Gaius in which they articulated in their own way that they were glad he would not be executed, which the old man received with good humor. 

Gwen was slower, gathering her cloak around her with careful precision. When she said goodbye to Gaius, it was with a crushing hug and more than a few tears of relief which had been held back all night by everyone’s careful avoidance of the subject. Now that she got talking about it, she babbled in her sweet way and cried. He wiped away the first few tears before realizing it was futile and offered her his handkerchief instead. She took it and left with a smile, a hand on Merlin’s arm, and a whispered word to Arthur. 

Arthur nodded. “I’ll see you outside,” he murmured privately and sent her off nodding. 

Gaius shuffled off, carrying dishes into the kitchen in spite of Merlin’s protests and left the two of them alone. 

The events of the morning had been pushed away and all but forgotten at the chaos of Gaius being incriminated. Now that his panic had ebbed, he was able to consider it with more than just a fleeting thought. He decided he didn’t regret it, even now with a clear mind, the moment they had stolen for themselves in the small hours of the morning. It was more than either of them could’ve hoped for and more than they would ever be able to have again. But it was absolutely perfect, crystalized in his memory.

It was ridiculous for Merlin to suddenly be nervous, but he was. He fastened his gaze to the floor, fidgeting his weight from foot to foot and waiting for Arthur to say something, or perhaps just leave. 

He wasn’t expecting firm lips against his, forcing his head up to meet Arthur’s gaze. But when he did, he smiled because Arthur was looking at him with shining eyes.

Merlin tried to pull away, reluctant but knowing it’s for the best. Arthur’s hand snaked up and anchored him close by the nape of his neck. He laughed and sighed and collapsed back into Arthur’s grasp. Dropping their foreheads together in a show of restraint he didn’t quite feel, Merlin struggled to keep from stealing another kiss. Because it was stealing. Arthur’s wife was on the other side of that door and Merlin should hate himself for betraying her, a good friend, in this way, but he didn’t. Feeling guilty over not feeling guilty wasn’t enough to keep him from running his hands through Arthur’s hair just because he loved the way it tickled and soothed its way across his palms. 

“I don’t want to leave.” Arthur breathed into the space between their lips and Merlin could taste the feeling, curling sweetly around his tongue. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” Merlin whispered, putting words to all his hopes and knowing they could not come true. He squeezed his eyes shut because there could be nothing worse in this moment than watching him pull away. 

“I should’ve told you this morning, or when I realized it, or the first day I met you because I knew it even then-”

“What are you on about?” Merlin teased, recalling Arthur’s words from days ago. He cracked one eye open to see Arthur watching him intently. They had mostly broken apart by then. The only tentative connection between them was Arthur’s hand cradled around his jaw, brushing his thumb across the angle of his cheek. 

“Nevermind. Just forget I said anything.” 

“Not likely.” Merlin clutched at his wrist, refusing to let him pull away that last little distance. “Say what you have to say.”

Arthur looked like he was going to refuse again, just out of spite, then his resolve crumbled and he sighed. “I love you Merlin.” He said, though it sounded as though he had just lost a great battle. 

“And I you.” Merlin said, holding fast to Arthur’s hand even when it fell away from his cheek. 

“Not that it does us much good.” Arthur chuckled and Merlin was dragged down with him until they were both breathless from it. 

It couldn’t last though. Merlin’s thoughts made sure of that, breaking in and reminding him that this moment existed out of time and the precious seconds that they had taken for themselves were dwindling.

If only there was a world that would allow them to love each other, if only their god did not condemn them, or their friends, if only a vow hadn’t been made to a sweet innocent woman, if only kissing this man didn’t make him shake in fear as well as relief, if only they could stay together in this moment for the rest of their lives. There were so many things Merlin could wish for, but even with all this magic at his disposal, he was powerless. The whole world was against them. They had so much love for each other but no future to contain it.  

“I don’t want this to end.” Merlin said, and they both knew he meant more than just this brief embrace. 

Arthur didn’t offer any words of comfort or false promises. There was nothing he could’ve said. They both knell too well that outside that door was a whole world just waiting to tear them apart. Maybe they could’ve been strong enough to beat it, Merlin thought, but they weren’t just fighting everyone else. They were fighting against themselves. As much as it hurt, as much as his heart rebelled, he knew it was right to stop this before anything else could happen. 

All the reasons he clung to this morning that made it okay to lose himself in the feel of Arthur’s body were just rationalizations. After an exhausting day, neither had the strength to talk in circles until they forgot it was wrong.

Arthur didn’t try to justify it. He just pressed a rough kiss into Merlin’s temple and turned toward the door. He had the knob in a crushing grip when he looked back, mustering a halfhearted smile and said, “Goodbye Merlin.” 

For so long Merlin been so worried about going to hell. Never once did he think his love could be returned, but even when he let himself dream that it could happen it never hurt so badly.

“Goodbye Arthur,” He said to the closing door.

 

When Arthur closed the door, he had to take a moment to lean heavily against the frame and let the pain devastate him. He only indulged for a few seconds though, before he straightened his back and turned to Guinevere who was a little ways down the path, nearly on the road. She was chatting animatedly with a recognizable figure, covering her mouth delicately with her hand as she laughed, leaning in and absorbing the man’s every word. 

It had been so long he could hardly remember the last time he’d seen her so happy. She was glowing. The soft light of the moon illuminated her smile, made the deep purple of her cloak nearly shimmer in the darkness, and the closer he got, the clearer her eyes became so they were beaming by the time he reached her side. 

“Arthur.” Guinevere greeted him warmly enough but suddenly all her glitter had disappeared. The sparkle that made her a radiant thing from afar seemed to dissipate the moment she laid eyes on him. 

Arthur didn’t respond, just kept his gaze fixed on the man who provided the other half of her conversation. The only person he had ever seen who could make Guinevere _glow._  

Lance shifted uncomfortably under his gaze but refused to cower from it. Arthur was trying to look beyond what he had always seen, to what Guinevere saw, to what made her light up like that. He knew it was a little silly but he was still reeling in a state of shock from his stolen moment with Merlin and so he didn’t really care.  

But he couldn’t see any differently. Lancelot was a handsome man by anyone’s standards with deep brown eyes that were brimming with sincerity. Arthur had already known that the man was genuine. He was plainly dressed, a worn blue shirt under a brown coat that had seen better days. Boots that were old but meticulously cared for, a brow knit cap he had never noticed before. His eyes caught on the hat, faint familiarity tickling at the edge of his awareness. 

When he let his mind drift back, he realized it wasn’t the hat he was familiar with, but the yarn. It was a few shades darker without the light of a fire burning in the hearth as the last time he encountered it, but it was still clearly the color of Guinevere’s eyes.

Arthur’s gaze shifted to her of its own volition as if to make sure. There was no doubting it. 

“Come along.” He said, voice weak but he didn’t bother strengthening it as he continued. “It’s late. We should return home.” 

It wasn’t a moment of great revelation. There was no sensation of a puzzle piece finally slotting into place after being so long misplaced to make sense of the whole picture. It didn’t leave him reeling at the suddenness of understanding. It was more like reading sentence after sentence in a book. When the truth of it was finally stated, he wasn’t surprised because he’d been making assumptions based on the context all along without even realizing it. 

“Arthur?” Guinevere probed gently when they were nearly home. 

He didn’t answer. 

“Arthur please talk to me.” Her hand on his arm was rough, trying to halt him but he just kept walking. 

“I don’t think there’s anything that needs saying.” Arthur said keeping his eye forward on the path ahead. 

She didn’t say anything more until they pushed through the door of their home to find Elyan and Percy sitting together in front of the fire. 

“Percival?” She asked, pulling off her cloak and hanging it on the hook by the door.

“Elyan let me in. I hope you don’t mind.” Percy stood from the chair he had dragged over from the table and gripped the back of it, looking ready to carry it back if need be. 

“No trouble at all. You are always welcome here.” She smiled, patting his hand that still gripped the wood. “It is late, though. You could use the spare bedroom if you like?”

“I should be getting back to my wife.” Percy shrugged. With a solid pat on Elyan’s shoulder, he shrugged on his coat. He paused halfway out the door, remembering something suddenly, and leaned in toward Arthur, “Is Gaius going to be alright? I haven’t told Elyan about it. Didn’t want to worry him in the state he’s in.”

“Gaius has been freed from all suspicion.” Arthur informed him with pride swelling in his chest. It didn’t last long. As soon as Percy was gone, he turned to face Elyan and the huge bandage secured across his chest and anything resembling pride soured to guilt within him. 

Guinevere was flitting around her brother, making sure he was feeling alright and had everything he needed, hands fluttering around the bandage in indecision. “Neither Gaius nor Merlin changed his bandage today. Do you think I should?” She directed her question to Arthur, much to Elyan’s obvious annoyance. 

“I’m fine, Gwen.” Elyan said, capturing her hands in his. “I’ll see Gaius tomorrow. One night won’t be the death of me.”

“Do not make jokes like that!” She gasped. She smacked his shoulder, the slap ringing through the room, but he just laughed incredulously. 

“I am feeling much better Gwen, truly. I might even be well enough to give my testimony in court.” He smiled, oblivious to the nervous look Guinevere leveled at Arthur.

When they’d accepted Elyan into their care, they had decided it was best not to tell him of what was happening in Camelot. Guinevere hadn’t wanted to upset him in his delicate state but no matter how much Arthur argued that her brother was strong enough to handle the news, she wouldn’t be moved. Now the time had come for the secrecy to end and Guinevere was nearly shaking with worry. 

If Elyan gave his testimony in court, more people would die. The shock of that alone could be enough to send him into another fever. 

Elyan’s well being aside, this had been the first day in a week where no one died. It could mark the end of the trials for good and no one else would have to die. Elyan’s testimony would only stir up more fear, hatred, suspicion and who knows how many more people could die.

Arthur stepped forward, a hand on Guinevere’s back guiding her to the stairs. When they had reached the staircase, he leaned in so there was no chance of her brother overhearing and said, “I’ll talk to him. Get it all sorted out. Just go up to bed.” 

Guinevere looked like she was going to argue, her eyes going sharp and her lips pursing, but she stormed upstairs anyway. More guilt settled around him as he heard her feet stamping around upstairs. He didn’t like forcing her to stay out of the action. He knew she would much rather be a part of it, but there were things he needed to discuss with Elyan, things he wasn’t ready to share with her yet.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Arthur said, still gazing up at the stairs. 

“Me too. To be honest, I still feel ragged but don’t tell Gwen that. If she had it her way, I would never leave this damn cot.” Elyan smacked the wood frame to emphasis, drawing Arthur’s  attention. 

“I think it would be best if you told me what happened in the woods that night.” Arthur said after taking the seat Percival had left next to the cot. 

“Oh, but what about the court?” Elyan asked. “Don’t they want to catch the witches responsible?”

Arthur had to fight back a bitter laugh. “The court has been concerned with nothing else,” He answered honestly. 

“Alright. I suppose I wouldn’t want my information to catch anyone by surprise and cause a panic.” Elyan conceded. He took a few moment to gather his thoughts, straightening up in his bed. Finally he turned his gaze to Arthur’s. 

“We had set up camp when they attacked. There was some kind of spell and everyone was dead.” 

“Lancelot said as much.” Arthur nodded. “Do you have any idea why they kept the three of you alive?”

“I saw them preparing the ritual. There was talk of human sacrifice, and paying tribute to the triple goddess, and Samhain. I don’t know enough about it to know what they were doing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Arthur waved away his apology, “But you saw them? You can identify the witches?”

“Lancelot told me he gave his testimony. Did he not?”

“Well…yes but-”Arthur broke off. Lancelot _had_ identified one of the witches, tried to anyway. “And you’re sure it was Morgana?”

“Arthur, I’m sorry-” Elyan started.

Arthur cut him off with a rough wave of his hand. “You haven’t been talking to Merlin?” 

“Merlin? What…No, I’ve spoken nothing of the subject with Merlin.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Arthur sucked in a deep breath and held it until his lungs burned. Elyan stayed silent as he worked through this and for that Arthur was grateful. Merlin had been right all along. Arthur should’ve known better than to doubt him. He’d seen Morgana do magic with his own eyes and still he denied it. He’d been such a stubborn fool. How many people could have been spared if they real witches had been captured from the beginning? 

“Should I go on?” Elyan asked tentatively and Arthur waved him on. He could deal with that guilt later. 

“I saw Morgana. She lit the fire with her eyes and the rush of air knocked the hood of her cloak back. They weren’t careful in hiding their faces. I guess the didn’t plan on us living to tell anyone. I saw the other witches too.”

“Who were the others?”

“Nimueh, Morgause, and Mordred.”

The shock rolled through him in a single wave that he quickly brushed away. It was obvious and he should’ve known. He would’ve if he’d allowed himself to consider Morgana’s guilt for just a second. Morgause was her closest friend, Mordred her husband. If anyone was doing magic with Morgana, it would be those two. 

“I managed to break away from the magic that was holding us paralyzed but I was too badly injured to walk. If it hadn’t been for Lance, I wouldn’t be alive.”

“Your testimony would shed much light on this whole mess but I don’t think you should tell it just yet.” Arthur finally decided. 

“Why not?” 

“Because the last time someone accused Morgana, she used it to her advantage. She’s in a unique position of power and I fear that if you try to go against her, she will convince everyone that you suffered brain damage as well as a wound to the chest.” Arthur tried to explain, but he could tell Elyan was confused. There really wasn’t any other choice at this point. Arthur settled back in his chair and recounted the events of the last week. Nimueh’s execution, Morgana’s rise to power, a list of all who had died, the fires, how people were lining up to accuse others and collect their bounty. He ended with Morgana incriminating Gaius and his own struggle to save him. “If she could do that to Gaius, who only ever tried to help her, I can’t imagine what she would do to you if you tried to come out against her now.”

More than an hour had passed since their conversation had begun, and Arthur could see the toll it was taking on Elyan, who seemed to be drooping in on himself now like a melted candle. Exactly what he and Gwen were afraid of.

“Get some sleep.” Arthur instructed, carrying his chair back to the dining table across the room. He placed a few more logs on the fire so it would burn for a little longer to keep Elyan warm. “We’ll discuss it more in the morning.” 

Elyan didn’t reply, just tucked himself back under his covers and stared wide eyed at the ceiling. He had enough to think about, probably enough to keep him awake until morning. Arthur knew the feeling. 

He climbed the stairs wearily, each step feeling more difficult than the last. When he finally reached the top, he found he only had enough strength left in him to tug off his boots, peel off his clothes and fall into bed beside his wife. The last few days had been exhausting, physically and emotionally. He hadn’t slept the night before. Not to mention the fact that he’d gotten one full night’s worth of sleep in the last five days. He had nothing left in him now. 

“How did he take it?”

Arthur jolted back from the edge of sleep at the sound of Gwen’s voice. He’d thought she’d been asleep, but no, she was propped up on one elbow, looking down at him from her side of the mattress. “He’ll be fine.” 

“If you’re sure” was all she said. She didn’t lay back down, though, and as much as he wanted to-so, _so_ badly-he couldn’t go to sleep now. 

“What is it?” He groaned, turning his head in her direction. 

“You didn’t come home last night.” 

“And that matters to you now?” He shoved his pillow around beneath him as he tried to make it more comfortable, the spark of irritation waking him more fully. “You’ve barely spoken to me for days.” 

Gwen ignored his anger, fighting to keep her tone cool as she said, “Reverend Monmouth showed up after midnight. He told me you were in the church, praying on your knees for guidance. I can’t remember the last time I saw you pray. He said you looked deeply troubled and could use the support of your loved ones.” 

“Yes and you sent Merlin because you couldn’t be bothered. I know.” Arthur spat, flopping onto his back and turning his glare onto the ceiling, anger and guilt mingling and swelling until his chest was tight with it. 

“I sent Merlin because I knew you would never confide in me. You always try to be so strong for me. I wish you would just let me share your burden. All night I lay awake hoping you would find some peace and come home. It kills me to think that I’m the one who upset you so badly.”

Arthur didn’t respond, just stared into the dark.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” She asked, and even though her voice was pitched low, he could hear how upset she was. “Or are you just going to keep pretending that you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Arthur.” She said harshly. 

“What do you want me to say, Guinevere?” He sighed. “Do you want me to ask how long you’ve been fucking him? Do you want me to yell, or call you a harlot and throw you onto the street?” 

“No, I just…” She was crying now and he didn’t have the energy to console her.

“It wasn’t you that drove me into the church last night. I don’t hate you.”

Her soft noises cut off abruptly, like she was holding her breath waiting for the axe to fall. When it didn’t, she breathed, “You don’t?”

“Do you love him?”

“…Yes.” She admitted with a sharp sob that shook her whole body. 

“I can’t hate you for loving someone, Gwen.” Arthur said, just wanting to be free of the guilt that was pressing on his chest, suffocating him. He couldn’t condemn Guinevere, not when he was guilty of much worse, and he didn’t want to listen to her crying anymore. “You said once that we both deserve to be happy.”

“I remember.” Her voice was small but he could tell the crying had stopped. 

“That includes you. Doesn’t it?” He teased, weary smile growing at the sound of her startled laughter. 

“Any other man would’ve had me strung up. How can you be so okay with this?”

Arthur went still, scrambling in his mind for a way to lead the conversation in a different direction. _Any other direction_. But the sound of his breath was painfully absent in the quiet, his silence stretched out for too long, and he’d given everything away without ever meaning to. 

“Oh.”

He flinched at the single syllable, whispered in sudden revelation. Reasonably he’d known he couldn’t keep it from her forever. They had been friends for years, tied their lives together and there was no way he could abruptly cut her out. The loss would be too painful for both of them. Still, ever since the events of the morning the cold weight of dread had settled into his stomach at the thought of his wife finding out about his unnatural attraction. 

They were both guilty of Adultery and could rightly be executed for it. Though their offenses were the same, the hell Arthur met would surely be deeper than Guinevere’s for his second offense. It didn’t matter that Arthur had resolved to end the whole affair when he left Merlin just an hour ago. He’d done it for both their sakes because despite his attempts to reassure Merlin that God was merciful and made them this way purposefully, he had his doubts. He didn’t want to break his vows to his wife or to god but he had and he wasn’t looking forward to her revulsion. 

He had already braced himself when Guinevere spoke again but all his bracing for the worst could’ve prepared him for what she said. “That includes you too.” 

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Merlin spent the morning catching up on all the work he’d been slacking on in the last few days. He ended up helping Gaius prepare a poultice for Annis’s son, who was still recovering from the fire. Well, he wasn’t so much helping as he was following him around the room holding various vials and jars Gaius collected and handed to him.

“Do you think if you spoke to Uther, you could make him see sense?” Merlin asked, taking the jar of crushed Rue. He’d been trying to get Gaius engaged in this conversation since they both woke but the old man just nodded and made little humming noises at every suggestion. 

At this suggestion, though, Gaius actually laughed. “You think Uther could see sense when magic is involved?”

“Fine, maybe he wont see sense but there has to be something we can do to put an end to this madness.” Merlin dropped his armful onto the work table, each bit of glass clinking against another, and plopped into the stool beside Gaius to watch. 

“What has gotten into you? You have never been this adamant.”

“That was before Morgana tried to have you hanged.” Merlin nearly shouted, rising from his chair to pace behind Gaius’ back as he worked. 

“These things pass on their own. The fire burns itself out and is soon forgotten. Any interference could just make things worse.” Gaius warned. He caught Merlin and forced him back onto the stool to stop his pacing. “Now pay attention. You are supposed to be learning from me.” 

“So you think we should do nothing and let Morgana accuse everyone she lays eyes on?” 

“It will not come to that.” He assured him, stretching out his hand in a wordless request. 

Merlin looked at the medicines they had gathered and wracked his brain, trying to remember which was first in this particular kind of poultice.

“We haven’t got all day.” Gaius scolded, grabbing a tincture of poppy and wetting a swatch of cloth with it. 

“We wouldn’t need to be doing this at all if the townspeople hadn’t gone crazy over witches and tried to burn down Annis’s house.” Merlin pouted. 

“They are still investigating. There’s no proof of any foul play.” 

“No proof but the look of triumph on that weasel Allined’s face. I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgana put him up to it.” 

“She would have nothing to gain. The longer these trials go on, the more she is at risk of discovery.” Gaius insisted. Merlin took the jar he’d just used and replaced it with the crushed rue. His mentor spared him an approving look before turning back to his work. 

“Then why is she working so hard to keep them going?” 

Neither had an answer for Merlin’s question so they focused entirely on their work. Healing a sick boy was something they could do, a problem they knew how to solve. By the time they tied up the poultice and dressed to deliver it, most of Merlin’s fervor cooled. He still hadn’t given up on thinking of a way to bring the trials to an end, but he realized it wasn’t something he could discuss with Gaius. 

“We’ll take this to the boy and then go to church to hear Aredian’s sermon.” Gaius said, dropping his cloak over his shoulders. Merlin nodded as he laced up his boots and followed him out the door. 

Others were already making their way down the road toward the church, little groups of families here and there braced against the winter chill, harsh despite the cloudless sky. 

A single figure rushed up the path toward them, bright midmorning sunlight glimmered off his blond hair. He was smiling widely even as he fought to catch his breath from running. 

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, shrugging his medicine bad higher on his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d like a word with you.”

“Uh..”Merlin stumbled, looking between the two men before him. 

Gaius rolled his eyes and took the bag from him, slinging it easily over his arm. “Make it quick.” 

Arthur struggled to keep a straight face even though Gaius already had his back to them as he progressed down the path toward the road. 

“What is it?” Merlin lowered his voice instinctively, leaning in closer to hear whatever it was Arthur had to say. 

“You really need to work on subtlety, Merlin.” Arthur said rolling his eyes and walking past him. “Let’s speak inside away from prying eyes.”

“Fine.” Merlin led him into the house, hearing the front door click shut behind them.  

Merlin was swept up in Arthur’s arms before he could turn around. He yelped when Arthur’s warm mouth pressed against the back of his neck, trailing kisses down until his scarf got in the way. He tried to pull the scarf away, but it was wrapped securely around Merlin’s neck so he changed directions and dragged his mouth up to kiss and nip at the back of his ears instead.  

Merlin’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted into the touch. He reached back to tangle his hand in Arthur’s hair. His smile curled even wider at Arthur’s satisfied hum against his skin.

Arthur pulled away just as suddenly as he’d reached for him. Merlin spun around, chasing his embrace but he had already stepped away to slip off his coat and hang it on the rack by the door. 

“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, grabbing the coat and shoving it back into Arthur’s arms. “I have to meet Gaius at church.”

“We made a mistake last night.” Arthur said. He gripped his coat tightly with both fists rather than put it back on. “I should never have let us end it.”

“Every reason we have for not being together still exists.” Merlin sighed. He could feel a wave of hope swelling in him, propelled by Arthur’s words and the shine of his eyes. “Nothing’s changed.”

Arthur seemed to consider his words carefully as he returned his coat to the hook. He spoke before he turned to face Merlin again. “I spoke with Guinevere last night.”

“And?” Merlin asked, curiosity warring with caution.

“She’s in love with someone else.”

Merlin took a measured step toward, resting a hand on his shoulder. Condolences hung on the edge of his tongue, but before he could express them, Arthur grabbed his hand and pulled him close. 

“I’m tired of agonizing over this, Merlin. Aren’t you?” Arthur’s fingers caressed Merlin’s knuckles, teased the sensitive skin of his wrists. “I’m sick of worrying what other people would think if they found out. I love you, and that can’t be wrong. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

“Not even god?” Merlin asked, gazing at Arthur’s lips as they said what he’d longed to hear for ages. He was swept away in his touch, his eyes, his words. 

“Not even god himself,” Arthur said fiercely. He brought his other hand to Merlin’s neck, tracing around to tangle in the hair at his nape. The touch sent a shiver through Merlin. 

“You could go to hell,” Merlin reminded him, tangling the fingers of their joined hands. He didn’t have the will to protest anymore. He barely had at the start. All his strength went to keeping his trembling knees strong. 

“Our fate is decided the day we are born. If I was predestined for heaven I wouldn’t have it in me to feel this way for you. If I am predestined for hell…. Well, I can think of no better crime than this.” 

Merlin nodded, a rush of joy rushed through him even as he sighed. There was no right solution to their problem. Some one would always end up hurt, but Arthur was right. Their choices had been made long ago by fate and God. He was done fighting his own happiness for the sake of propriety, done pretending that there was anywhere else in the world he would rather be than with Arthur.

Merlin surged forward, capturing Arthur’s lips with his own. He jolted, surprised by the sudden move, and blew out a laugh through his nose. The teasing puff of air against Merlin’s cheek drove him deeper into the kiss. 

Arthur’s tongue snaked across Merlin’s lip, shooting fire across his skin. His hand slipped free from Merlin’s and came to rest on his waist, palm brushing the fabric of his trousers once before fingers fell closed, gripping his hip tightly.

His whole body was burning from within. Arthur’s warmth pressed around him, suffocating. His fingers scrabbled clumsily at the buttons at the top of his coat even as he tried to hold the kiss. Arthur was all too eager to break it, rushing to work the buttons on the bottom of the coat. The barest brush of his hands against Merlin’s hard length, made his progress stutter to a halt as a wave of heat rolled through him.

Arthur held him close, dragging soft lips against his neck in lingering kisses as he unclasped the remaining buttons. Merlin started to wriggle free from it, but before he could Arthur gripped the lapels and tugged him back into a kiss. 

Burning lungs forced him to pull away. Merlin dragged in panting breaths as Arthur slid the coat from his shoulders into a pool on the floor, his touch ghosting down his arms. He wrapped his arms around Merlin’s back to tug their hips closer, his fingers dipping below the waist of his trousers. He could feel their cocks pressed between them, hard and throbbing for attention.

Merlin’s limbs were heavy and clumsy, his clothes rough against his skin. All he wanted in that moment was to be rid of them, to feel Arthur’s skin against his own. They left their shirts in a heap on the floor and kicked off their boots as he led them, stumbling, toward the stairs. 

He could feel Arthur’s urgency in the press of his lips and the hands on his body. It gave him the confidence to take the stairs backward, unwilling to pull away from Arthur after so long without him. He barely made it up one before his foot caught on the lip of the step and he went falling backward. He lay winded for several seconds as Arthur curled over and laughed. 

Both men struggled to breath for their own reasons. Arthur’s laughter faded away, and he offered Merlin a hand. Merlin measured his generosity against the smirk he couldn’t quite suppress and slapped his outstretched hand away petulantly. 

“Come on.” Arthur rolled his eyes, but Merlin ignored him, prodding at the tender skin on his back that had collided with the edge of a stair. Arthur sighed and lowered himself carefully to kneel a few steps below him. 

The teasing touch at his waist made Merlin forget the bruises that were surely forming on his back. He watched Arthur unlace his trousers purposefully, heavy lidded eyes focused on his task. Merlin was captivated by his parted lips, flushed from kisses and shining, the way his hands trembled as he pushed aside the fabric, his throat quivering with a swallow as he took Merlin in his mouth.

Merlin’s head feel back, connecting with the stairs with a resounding thud. The jolt barely registered through the wave of pleasure that carried him away. Arthur stroked him with a hand as his tongue caressed the head of his cock. His other hand worked Merlin’s trousers lower on his hips before pushing under his tunic. It was graceless and it was rushed, but it felt too good to care. 

A groan rattled from deep in his chest as Arthur’s tongue trailed in one long pass along the underside of his cock. Merlin stretched to touch any part of him he could reach, tangled a hand in his hair, brushed the skin of his neck, clutched at his shoulder.

Arthur pulled away with one last lingering swipe of his tongue. A whimper broke free from Merlin’s lips and his body slumped, released from the tension of straining toward Arthur’s touch. He stood and Merlin followed, reluctant only for a moment once the distraction of Arthur’s mouth was gone and the ache from his uncomfortable position returned. 

Inside his room, Merlin closed the door firmly behind him before turning back to face Arthur. He stood beside the bed, looking ruffled and more unsure than Merlin had seen him in the last half hour. He’d lost his tunic somewhere along the way, exposing the blush that started in his cheeks and poured down his neck to spill across his chest. The sight made Merlin smile, made him want to linger in this moment, just watching the slow smile creep across Arthur’s lips.  

He took a few steps forward and Arthur met him, their hands finding a place to rest on each other without a thought. Merlin unlaced Arthur’s trousers, intent on repaying the favor Arthur had given him on the stairs, but Arthur had other ideas. He sat at the edge of the bed and pulled Merlin to stand before him, pushing aside the tunic and kissing his exposed stomach. He smiled at the tender touch, brushing his hands through Arthur’s hair as he leaned down to catch Arthur’s lips in a kiss. 

When they broke apart, Arthur sprawled back across the bed, watching as Merlin cast aside the rest of his clothes. Merlin didn’t linger there, standing naked in the middle of the room. He crawled onto the bed, working Arthur’s trousers off before settling between his spread legs.

Merlin was glad, all of a sudden, that they had stopped their mad scramble in the antechamber of the church days ago. It had been rough and hurried and drenched in harsh reality. Laying here with Arthur now was like a dream. Warm afternoon light spilled through the small window sheltering them in their own little world where nothing else mattered but the two of them. Arthur smile was easy and he nearly glowed, a warm light all his own. 

“You’re beautiful.” Merlin admitted, brushing fingers through his tousled hair. 

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.” Arthur said, even as his smile widened. He hooked a hand behind Merlin’s neck and dragged him down into a kiss.  

Their hips slotted together easily, like two pieces of a puzzle that were always meant to fit together. Merlin rolled his hips experimentally. Arthur threw his head back with a groan, and copied the motion. Merlin kissed and nipped his bared throat, grinding down as he did. They found a rhythm and it was’t long before they were both panting into each other’s skin.

This was something better than the thrumming hunger that drove them just minutes ago. It was deeper. Every touch was nearly unbearable for the almost suffocating swell of emotion that underlay the feeling. 

Merlin stretched down to kiss him, wrecking their rhythm, but he didn’t care. He’d waited too long to be able to kiss this man, dreamed of it nearly every night. He’d agonized over it, made himself sick with guilt, tortured himself over the morality of it. Kissing Arthur was worth all the struggle. His love was worth more than everything.  

Arthur gasped against his mouth, clutching his ass and urging him on harder. Merlin followed his lead, hips faltering as pleasure twisted knots in his gut. The feel of it was overwhelming, their bodies writhing together, but he needed more. He shifted all his weight onto one arm and reached between them with the other. He took them both cocks in hand, stroking hard and fast, as Arthur’s fingers dug into the skin of his back. 

Arthur came first with sharp shaking breaths. Merlin was close behind, helpless against Arthur’s hips stuttering against his as he rode out his orgasm. They collapsed, tangled together in a breathless heap. They wiped up their mess with Merlin’s discarded tunic and crawled under the blanket before the biting chill could reach them.

Lying together, they drifted into their own thoughts and toward sleep as the afternoon deepened. Arthur’s eyes had drooped closed several minutes ago, sated body enveloped in their mingling warmth and sinking fast toward sleep, but Merlin wasn’t so lucky. His thoughts had returned to their indignation from that morning, and he couldn’t let go of what he’d said to Gaius.

“We have to stop this, somehow.” Merlin said suddenly after a long stretch of silence. Arthur jolted back from the edge of unconsciousness and popped open his eyes to look up at him. 

“The trials.” He clarified. 

Arthur nodded and scooted up a little farther so he could recline against the wall, taking Merlin, who was sprawled across his chest, with him. 

“Too many innocent people have died. Who knows how many more will be condemned because they can’t say a word in their own defense? Denying your guilt is more of a death sentence than actually practicing magic.”

“My father doesn’t concern himself with truth.” Arthur said bitterly, trailing a hand along Merlin’s exposed back. “And it’s obvious Aredian doesn’t care who dies so long as he is paid.”

“Anyone would be safer in court with a lie.” 

“It’s not like one lie could save everyone.” 

“What if it could?” Merlin shoved up so he was sitting, taking most of the blanket with him. “If one person claimed responsibility for everything, even the crimes of the innocent people,  the court could execute him and be done with this whole mess because the source of the problem is gone.” 

“But the source of the problem wouldn’t really be gone. It would just appear to be. Morgana and the others, the real witches, would still be around to stir up trouble.”

“Once we bring the trials to an end, we can figure out a way to stop them. We’d be able to stop focussing our attention on the deaths and it could give use the time we need to come up with a more permanent solution.” 

“Fair point, but who in their right mind would sacrifice themselves for just a temporary solution.” 

“I could-”

“No.”

“Arthur-”

“Absolutely not.” Arthur’s grip on Merlin’s arms tightened as he leaned in. “There must be a better way. I won’t lose you.”

Merlin smiled and brushed a kiss against Arthur’s shoulder. “I could use my magic. Make it look like I died and…”

“You wouldn’t be able to show your face in town.”

“I could use a disguise?” Merlin suggested, and when Arthur didn’t immediately dismiss the idea, he went on. “I could dress up like a woman, or an old man.”

“As amusing as it would be to see you dressed up in full skirts and a bonnet-” Arthur smirked, then caught himself actually considering the idea and shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous. If they recognize you, they’ll know you’re a sorcerer. And if the magic doesn’t work and you actually get yourself hanged…”

“It’ll work.” Merlin insisted, splaying open his hand across Arthur’s bare chest.

“Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”

“Not while people are still dying.”

Arthur hummed a small acknowledgement but didn’t say anything more.

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur sprawled out on what was left of the floor in the front room of Ygraine’s house. He considered lighting a candle or two as he tucked his hands behind his head, but decided against it. He’d been working in the old rickety house for a few hours now after he’d slipped out when Gaius came home. He’d actually tried to leave long before Gaius arrived, but every time he leaned down to kiss Merlin goodbye, he would end up dragged back into bed and held captive for a few more minutes. 

“Merlin?” Gaius had called from the bottom of the stairs, “Are you here?”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Merlin called, scrambling off the bed. Arthur quickly followed, hopping from foot to foot as he pulled on his trousers. 

“Where have you been?” Gaius’s voice carried up to them, encouraging them to dart around faster. With frantic flailing, Merlin relayed his plan to distract Gaius so Arthur could sneak out behind his back. Arthur struggled to stifle his laughter at Merlin’s attempt at subterfuge but nodded and ducked out of the way anyway when Merlin pulled open the bedroom door. Arthur waited behind the door for the sounds of glass clinking and shuffling paper before creeping down the stairs.

Merlin had pulled Gaius aside to a worktable, spouting question after question. His eyes followed Arthur as he crossed the room, crinkling around the edges in a suppressed smile when Arthur gave him one last smile before pulling the front door closed behind him. 

As the light faded, he tried without much luck to forget his encounter with Mordred that afternoon and tried even harder not to worry about all the ways Merlin’s plan could fail. Arthur had only just gotten him. He couldn’t stand losing him to his own idiotic altruism. But as much as he hated the thought of Merlin being strung up, even in disguise, they didn’t have much choice. Mordred had made that very clear. 

After he’d left Merlin’s, he’d gone to find Morgana. He hadn’t spoken to her since he realized that she was largely responsible for most of the deaths and the hysteria that had gripped everyone over the last week, but he was determined to if not make her see sense then at least make her stop testifying in court. When Arthur went to her home, he was met at the door by Mordred instead. 

The younger man didn’t say a word and he didn’t open the door any further to invite him inside, just stared at Arthur with those intense blue eyes like he could see everything in his soul. 

“Is Morgana here?” Arthur had asked. All the contentment that had filled him by being with Merlin had faded, leaving him cold in the noon day sun under Mordred’s gaze. 

“No.”

“Where has she gone?” He shifted forward, trying to put himself in the doorway so he would have to let him, but Mordred stance was firm. 

“I don’t know.”

“When will she be back?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Well then tell her I stopped by.” Arthur was struggling to control his temper. It wouldn’t have done him any good to get angry with him but it was too much. Knowing that these two were practicing witchcraft with malicious intent made it hard enough for him to speak evenly let alone tolerate all this evasiveness.

“She already knows.” Mordred said, pushing the door shut. 

“I’m sure.” Arthur snapped under his breath. He turned and started back for the road. The sound of a door behind him swinging open with a loud creak didn’t stop him but a rough hand slapping down on his shoulder did. He spun quickly, swatting away the hand and coming face to face with Mordred who’s eyes were burning. 

“If you hurt her I swear on god’s name you will not live to regret it.” Mordred’s voice shook with thinly concealed rage. He’d never thought it was possible but as Mordred’s eyes flashed a dangerous gold and a rough unseen hand shoved him back, Arthur found that he was scared. 

Merlin’s plan suddenly didn’t seem like enough, so much risk for so little promise of reward. Even stopping the trials would only delay the violence. There’s no guarantee that it would stop the witches from hurting people. 

But it would give them all time. Time he needed to talk to Morgana or have Merlin convince them to stop if they would only accept someone of their own kind. Even putting off the violence for a single day would be worth it. Or so he tried to tell himself as he stared at the ceiling and saw other places.

His loyalties lay with the people who had appointed him sheriff and that part of him knew it was the best thing for everyone to let Merlin disguise himself and confess. It would protect the most people and that was his job. But another part of him, the part that was deeper than logic, stronger than reason, screamed for him to grab Merlin and run to another continent to keep him safe. He had a horrible weight in his gut, the same feeling he’d had when they found the witches in the woods for the first time what felt like ages ago. The heavy sense of impending doom wasn’t helped at all when a heavy handed knock sounded from the vicinity of the door. 

Two figures pushed past the blanket without waiting for permission to enter. Arthur shoved up to his feet and bounded across the room to scoop up a match and lit the only candle he had left in the room. It didn’t cast much light but there was enough to recognize a silhouette he’d known all his life and one he was quickly coming to despise. 

“You are not going to get very much work done in the dark.” Uther’s disapproving voice filled up the room.

Aredian was hanging back by the door, his body blocking out most of the moonlight that filtered in through the gaps. It made the room darker, and even harder to see beyond the small circle of candlelight around him. He was effectively blind and it put him on edge. 

“I was just taking a break.” Arthur tried to sound unperturbed. “What can I do for you?”

“You weren’t in church today.” Aredian spoke for the first time, stepping away from the door. Arthur still couldn’t see his face because of the light behind him but he could hear everything he needed to know in his tone. And their visit was not friendly. 

“I haven’t missed a day in four years.” Arthur clutched more tightly to the candle. “One absence is hardly noteworthy.”

“Recent events have made every action noteworthy.” Uther admonished. There was a small sound of scuffle as Uther tried to step forward over the exposed floor. “Now is not the time to get lazy. Especially not you. The townspeople look up to you to set an example. And your actions lately have hardly been exemplary.”

“Because I visited with Merlin? That’s not a new occurrence.” Arthur tried to fight off some of the shivery tension that had gripped his limbs.

“You chose the presence of a man over the worship of god!” Uther snapped.

Aredian jumped in, much calmer than his father but the undercurrent of threat was cutting. “It has never been so easy for the devil to take hold of someone. Even missing one day of worship is dangerous.”

“I was ill. Gaius has been through a great deal of stress lately,” Arthur hoped the words were pointed enough to remind them of what they’d done to Gaius just the day before. “I didn’t want to bother him so I asked for Merlin’s assistance.”

“Well we can hardly fault you for being ill.” Aredian conceded. “But it is strange for so strong a sickness that you would need a physician to fade so quickly.”

“It must have been something I ate.” Arthur shrugged, hoping they would just leave it at that. Of what he could see of them, they weren’t satisfied. “Merlin is a very good physician. He has been trained well.” 

Uther looked like he was going to protest. Before he could, Arthur blew out the candle and pushed past them toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, gentleman. I have to meet Guinevere for dinner.”

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

It felt as though the entire house was shaking under the pounding on the door. Arthur stirred, dragging back the covers until he noticed Gwen halfway out the door, pulling on a decent dress and adjusting her hastily tied bonnet. He collapsed back against the mattress and listened to the familiar sound of her bare feet padding down the stairs and across the floor.

The rough pounding resumed and her quiet sounds were swallowed up in the racket. There was a brief moment of silence as the door creaked open and he was yanked away from sleep as Guinevere screamed, “What have I done?”

He jolted to his feet and took off down the hall. Thundering down the stairs three and four at a time, he burst into the front room to find Guinevere being dragged out the door by two men he knew well.

“Bedivere! Owain!” He shouted, clamping a heavy hand on Owain’s shoulder to keep him from going any further out the door. “Stop this!”

“We are under strict orders from Judge Pendragon. Guinevere Pendragon is under arrest and will be formally charged with acts of witchcraft.” Bedivere said, taking the opportunity to take a firmer grip on Guinevere’s bicep. 

“On what grounds!” Arthur shouted at the same time Guinevere snapped, “Release me!” and yanked her arms out of their grip. Arthur reached out for her as she stumbled backward out of their hands. He tried to put himself between them but she stopped him with a few quiet words before he got himself arrested as well. 

“It’s going to be alright, Arthur.” She murmured, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “We’ll get this sorted out. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine.” He shouted after her even as she set her chin and pushed past Owain and Bedivere out the door, unwilling to be dragged anywhere. When she had made it outside, he turned his glare to Owain and Bedivere, “I demand to know on what grounds she’s being charged.”

They were silent as they followed after her. Dragging on his shoes, he stumbled out the door after them ready to shout until one of them answered. He fell silent when he stepped outside and saw they had gathered a sizable crowd of curious onlookers on the street. His neighbors careening their necks for a better view and whispering behind their hands. 

Guinevere stood tall as she was led to the horse drawn cart where she would be locked in chains and carried off to court. He would’ve been proud if he hadn’t be so furious. She didn’t look back and she didn’t take the hand Owain offered to help her into the cart. Owain climbed up after her and crossed the small space to the bench where she had sat.

“You put those cuffs on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” Arthur growled. Owain had the decency to look apologetic as he clasped two heavy metal manacles around her wrists.

Arthur was too stunned to make good on his threat. These men he commanded had turned on him. All the authority he had as sheriff meant nothing if he couldn’t even order these men to explain themselves. Couldn’t even prevent his wife from being arrested. Without his power, there was nothing he could do to protect her from his father’s court and the accusation of witchcraft looming over her. All he could do was watch as the cart pulled away, wobbling off toward the church, and the crowd began to disperse. One face stood out among the stragglers, fixing pained eyes on him. 

He turned away and marched back toward the house. He needed to get dressed, find his father, and get this whole mess sorted out before something went wrong. Something worse.

“Arthur,” Lancelot called after him, jogging up the path to catch up. “I know I’m the last person you want to see but-”

Arthur held up a hand to cut him off as he pushed inside. “It doesn’t matter now. Just get Gaius and get him to try and talk some sense into my father. And where’s Leon. He’s always the one that makes the arrests.”

Lancelot hovered inside the doorway, unsure if he was allowed inside after everything, but Arthur was too preoccupied pulling on a shirt and a jacket to care. “You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Arthur asked, pausing in lacing up his boot to look up at Lancelot. 

“Leon was arrested.” He explained, pushing away from the doorframe. “He refused to collect Guinevere so Judge Pendragon locked him up.”

“Leon.” Arthur muttered. A mix of pride and anger fought in him but he didn’t have time to wait for one to win out. He was on his feet and out the door in the next minute. The moment they were outside, Lancelot took off in the direction of the physician’s home. 

Arthur closed the door behind him and when he turned to head for the church, he collided with a familiar figure.

“Merlin!” He blurted at the same time Merlin gripped his arms and said, “I heard Gwen was going to be arrested! What happened?”

“I don’t know yet. Come on.” He said, grabbing Merlin by the wrist and dragging him along as they raced toward the church. 

They found a large crowd milling around the front doors, shifting restlessly. Arthur caught scraps of sentences about the sheriff’s wife and poison but he pushed them aside to elbow his way through the throng of Camelot citizens and through the doors. Merlin was behind him every step of the way. Some time during their journey, Arthur lost his grip on his arm, but he stayed close, Merlin’s comforting presence never far away. 

When they made it inside, Uther and Aredian were seated at the high table at the front as they always were. Arthur’s seat was left bare. Gaius was standing before them speaking heatedly but they were too far away to catch the words. Guinevere twisted around in her seat in the front row of the pews to see who had come in. She gave a brave smile that Arthur struggled to return. 

Merlin slipped away from behind him to go to her and wrap his arms around her. She tried to return the hug as best she could but her wrists were still bound. Arthur was overwhelmingly grateful for him in that moment. All he wanted to do was go to her and offer whatever comfort he could. With her in the hands of a good friend, he was able to focus on what needed to be done. 

Setting his sights on the arguing men before of him, he charged ahead and spoke roughly, “What is the meaning of this?” 

Uther turned his attention to the newcomer, but Aredian and Gaius didn’t even glance up, locked in a heated conversation. The judge leveled cool eyes on him and spoke evenly as if to a stranger, “The trial will begin in a matter of minutes.”

“There shouldn’t be a trial to begin with. Why are you doing this? What are you playing at?” 

“If you’ll have a seat, all will become clear once the trial commences.”

“Tell me what is going on!” Arthur shouted, slamming his hands on the table. The echoing thud was the only sound in the ensuing silence. Gaius, who had stopped his useless protesting, put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Arthur considered shaking it off but he knew better than to offend one of the only friends he had left in the room. He let Gaius guide him away from the table to stand beside Gwen.

“They have suspicions that Guinevere has been consorting with witches, but I believe they don’t have any physical evidence or testimony. So long as Morgana stays quiet and you all cooperate, it should be over quickly.” Gaius explained once Arthur had sat and Merlin and Guinevere had turned their attention to him. 

“They never have proof,” Merlin muttered. “That doesn’t stop them from executing people.”

Arthur wanted to reach out to him somehow but he was on the other side of Guinevere and now was hardly the time. Gaius just turned a chastising glare his way before turning back to the head table to try one last time to end this mess. 

Uther didn’t bother with him. Rising from his chair, he commanded a man at the door to let the people in. 

News of Guinevere’s arrest had to have made it around the whole town before the sun rose. The church filled quickly with ever curious and, Arthur was sure, sadistic townspeople. 

There was a small voice in the back of his mind that reminded him his father could’ve very easily made this a closed trial, to spare Arthur the humiliation and public scorn. He watched Uther at his table straighten up further with every person that entered. When the last of the stragglers took their seats and the doors were closed, Uther stood, sweeping his eyes over the crowd. His gaze came to rest on Arthur and then he knew. His father could’ve made this a private affair, but he was refusing because he wanted to teach him a lesson. 

Gwen was summoned to stand before her judges and the room. It was hard to let her go, but in her absence, Merlin slid closer and touched his hand discreetly in the small space between them. It wasn’t enough to ease his worry but it dulled the edges enough for him to move past his rage and pay attention. 

“People of Camelot we convene to dispense justice to Guinevere Pendragon for crimes of witchcraft, and conspiring to murder her husband.”

“What?” Arthur shouted. He would’ve sprung to his feet if Merlin hadn’t grabbed his arms and held him down. Uther paused, but very deliberately did not look in his direction.

“Murder?” asked Gwen. She was trembling slightly, the small jerky motions evident in the way her night dress quivered. 

“Arthur Pendragon missed Sunday mass for the first time in five years yesterday and reportedly sought the help of the physician. Upon further investigation, your husband was found too sick to attend church because something he had eaten made him ill.” As Uther spoke, the fight seeped out of Arthur. His body deflated, his outraged cooled. It was his fault Guinevere had been arrested, his lies that cast suspicion on her. His foolish irresponsibility, choosing Merlin over his duties. Merlin seemed to have this realization at the same time, his hands slipping away from Arthur. 

“Surely it was nothing but a passing sickness. I would never wish him ill. I love my husband.” Her voice was strong, though her body shook with her fear. 

“So you say.” Uther murmured. He reclaimed his seat and a moment later, Aredian was on his feet pacing toward Guinevere. 

It was easier to remain seated now. His indignation had fizzled out and all he was left with was guilt and fear that weighed him down.

“Guinevere, I’d like to test the strength of your christianity. Surely someone with god in their heart could not do something so heinous.” 

“Yes! I would never. Ask me anything you like. I’ll answer any question that will prove to you people that I’m innocent.” 

Aredian smile oozed across his face. Arthur didn’t know what it was, but he could tell that something Guinevere said played right into his plan. “Very well. Do you study the holy commandments?”

“Of course.” 

“Could you name them?” 

Gwen hesitated. Arthur could just barely see the apprehension on her features from where he was seated, but she straightened her back and spoke anyway, “Thou shall not steal. Thou shall not covet thy neighbors’ goods nor make unto thee any graven image. Thou shall not take the name of the lord in vain. Thou shall have no other gods before me.”

Aredian nodded along, counting each in his mind along with the rest of the church. Her words began to putter out, becoming unsure as she came closer to ten. “Thou  shall remember the sabbath day and keep it holy. Thou shall honor thy father and mother. Thou shall not bear false witness…”

“That is but eight.” Aredian said.

Gwen pinched her eyes shut. “I know.” 

“And the others?”

Silence stretched out as Gwen searched her mind for the last two commandments. People began to whisper and murmur at the back of the church, the words indistinguishable but the tone heavy and accusing. 

The answer burst out of her suddenly, face lighting up triumphantly until she reached the end and realized how her faulty memory would incriminate her. “Thou shall not commit adultery and thou shall not…kill.”

“Interesting that those would be the ones you had difficulty recalling.” Aredian mused. “Could it be that your forgetfulness is the product of a guilty conscience?”

“No! I am simply nervous.” 

“Innocent people have nothing to fear in this court.”

“So I’ve heard.” Gwen spat. Scattered gasps sounded behind Arthur’s back but he paid them no mind. He was too focused on her. He could see her fear waning, making way for the simmering anger that had left him minutes ago. The set of her shoulders was defiant, which he’d seen many times before and cherished in her. But she was never this way in public, and now was hardly the time to break away from her feminine nature. They needed the court to believe she was innocent. If they even caught a glimpse of the strength that he knew her to be capable of,  she would be found guilty and hanged without a moments thought. 

Aredian’s smile grew, but was quickly buried under a mask of concern. “Surely you are right. One lapse does not necessarily mean one has accepted the devil into his or her heart.” 

Guinevere’s gaze sharpened on her accuser as she was obviously thrown off. A bloom of apprehension spread in Arthur’s chest. They would not let something like this go so easily if they did not have more evidence against her. He could only imagine what they could use against her. 

“There is more to this case than a woman neglecting her religious duties.” Uther said. Arthur recognized the tone as a scold even if it sounded like more than vague interest. Aredian recognized it too, nodded reluctantly and stepped back. 

Uther rose to his feet once again, and without another word, took command of the trial. He lifted a few of the papers on the table before him, shuffling them around before he found what he was looking for. 

“Do you recognize this, Guinevere?” Uther held up a small, black leather bound journal held together with a thick brown string. Arthur couldn’t see very much of it from his position but he knew, icy fear seeping through his veins, that the top right corner was bent outwardly and the cover of the book had a well worn crease down the center.

“It looks familiar, but I can’t say where I know it.” Gwen said, considering the book for the last few seconds Uther held it aloft. 

Uther began to flip through it, searching for a specific page. The sound of paper scraping against paper was deafening to Arthur, who watched frozen in horror as his father thumbed through the first half of the journal. The half that he had poured his thoughts which he could not trust with anyone into. Any one of those pages could be damaging when read out loud for the entire town to hear. 

His father was searching for one page in particular, though. When he lifted his gaze from the book to meet his son’s eyes, Arthur knew Uther was aiming for more than damage. He wanted devastation. 

“One can learn so much from a journal.” Uther said, eyes steady on his target. The words were so pointed, Arthur could not miss their meaning. It was retribution, some sort of revenge for freeing the secrets trapped in his mother’s journal when his father worked so hard to keep them hidden. Now Arthur’s secrets would be free, whether he wanted them to be or not.

Merlin didn’t try to hold him back when he pushed to his feet and approached them. Arthur was afraid Uther wouldn’t even acknowledge him, he kept his eyes fixed on the crowd, but when Arthur spoke lowly, he turned his cruel eyes on him. “Don’t do this.” 

“Have a seat.” Uther ordered, grip tightening on the journal. 

“Please, father.” Arthur breathed, but he should’ve known better. His father was no where to be found. He was staring into the face of a stranger, the relentless judge. 

Uther stepped around him and addressed the town. “I hold the personal journal of Arthur Pendragon, husband of the accused and victim of her crimes. I believe this passage will reveal all we need to know to make our judgement.”

“Would you like to read it aloud?” Uther offered, holding the book out to Arthur who could do nothing but scowl. “Very well. I will read it myself.” 

Guinevere was looking at Arthur, confusion and betrayal waring on her features as she tried to catch his eye. He couldn’t face her, though. He’d already done so much to get her into trouble, for his words, no matter how long ago they were written, to be the final mark against her was too much. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to see anyone’s reaction as his private thoughts were spilled. 

“I came face to face with a demon. I have been told since I was a boy that the devil was a master of tricks but I never imagined a demon would look so much like a friend.” Uther began, and Arthur’s head snapped up as he realized what passage his father had chosen. 

It was the blank page he’d stared at for several hours after he witnessed Merlin using magic for the first time. He didn’t sleep that night, just stared at that one page and tried to adjust everything he knew to fit this one revelation. When the words finally did come, he poured everything out in ink. The betrayal, the uncertainty, the fear. 

“I can’t say when I became so ensnared by them that I was so blind to their true nature, but now that I know them for what they really are, I find I have no regret.”

Arthur made the mistake of glancing up. Guinevere had become deathly still, listening intently to every word with shock. His eyes drifted to Merlin, who still sat on the first bench and had kept his eyes on Arthur the whole time. Arthur wasn’t sure he could make it through the embarrassment of having his secrets made public, through condemning his wife with his words that weren’t even written about her, but then his eyes met Merlin’s.

“This demon should, by every right, be wicked and corrupted, but they remain so pure and honest, I’ve begun to doubt what I know to be true if it aligns so closely to the words of the devil.”  Merlin sat straight in his seat, searching Arthur’s face as his words filled the distance between them. It was like Merlin was seeing him for the first time, for all the wonder and amazement evident across his features.

“Though I doubt myself, my teachers, my god, I can muster no doubt for my demon and that is the worst of it all. My love for this creature will not waver no matter how I try to shake it.” Uther finished, lip turning up in distain at the lasts words before he snapped the journal shut and tossed it onto the table.  

The echoing thud snapped Arthur’s attention away from Merlin and back to the reality of the grave situation they were in. Guinevere said nothing, wide eyes fixed on the now closed journal with a sort of slow horror as if she was seeing the weapon that had just ended her life. 

“I believe we have enough evidence against you to rule you guilty of witchcraft and consorting with the devil. Do you have anything to say on your behalf?”

“I…” Guinevere pulled her eyes away from the journal and looked to Uther. When his words fully registered in her mind, she sucked in a huge breath and turned to Arthur. “I have no defense, just the prayer that God will see my innocence and spare me.”

“You still claim innocence? After all we’ve heard this morning.”

“It hardly matters.” Aredian said, stepping forward to prevent this line of questioning. “She has turned her back on the lord. Of all she is accused, there is one sin that has been forgotten.”

“What do you speak of?” Uther asked sharply. 

“I see the doubt in you Judge Pendragon. Her weakness of piety could be attributed to her weakness of mind. The ties to the devil could be fanciful imaginings. Her husband’s illness could be a coincidence. But your judgement is compromised because of your relationship with the accused.” 

“Is it?” 

“Indeed. But there is one sin that can not be doubted.” Aredian pushed forward despite Uther’s obvious irritation. “Guinevere, have you ever been unfaithful to your husband?”

Guinevere’s eyes widened as they darted between Aredian, Arthur, and Uther. She was quiet for too long, until she said, “I love my husband very much.”

“That was not the question. Do keep in mind that lying is a sin against god. Have you ever been unfaithful to your husband?” 

“I…”

“Yes or no?”

Guinevere’s eyes stayed locked on Arthur’s as Aredian stepped closer. Arthur shook his head slowly, deliberately, begging her with his eyes to get his message. One lie to save herself and she could spend the rest of her long life repenting for it. 

“Yes.” 

The shockwave went through the onlookers and their silence burst with shock, excitement, scandal. Arthur sighed, all the hope that had been budding in him at his father’s doubt was crushed as Guinevere began to cry. 

Uther was just as shocked as everyone else. His face remained passive but it was clear in his voice when he said, “A confession. I hereby judge you guilty of adultery and sentence you to be hanged for your crime against god.” 

“She did not act alone.” Arthur stood stunned as Lance raced up the aisle to go to her. Lance wrapped his arms around Gwen and she buried her face in his chest, begging him to be quiet. He pulled her closer and addressed Uther and Aredian. “I will not have her face this punishment alone. If she is to be hanged, I demand a noose for my own neck.”

“No one needs to be hanged.” Arthur insisted, stepping forward to try and pull his father’s attention away from Aredian who was calling for blood. “They’ve admitted fault. Surely a confession and an oath of repentance is enough for a lessor punishment?”

“How could you say such a thing?” Uther asked, “Is this not a personal betrayal to you? How could you deny proper justice?” 

“I don’t deny justice and I seek no vengeance. I’m not angry with them. God would want me to find the strength to forgive them.” Arthur was desperate, saying anything that might save them now. “There must be a different punishment.” 

“No man in their right mind could be so forgiving. Not even a man attempting to follow the wisdom of God. You are flesh and blood, are you not? Where is your anger?” Aredian stepped crossed the distance to stand before Arthur, eyes burning into him and searching his soul. 

There was no honest answer Arthur could give. Before he could think of something to say, a sweet voice cut through the tense silence. “Maybe he is simply distracted.”

All eyes turned to Morgana, who kept her attention on straightening her skirt as if she had not said anything of consequence. 

“What are you saying?” Uther demanded. 

Morgana lifted her innocent gaze to him and shrugged. “Maybe Arthur has been too distracted lately to care that his wife strayed.”

Uther clenched his jaw and took a moment to collect himself before he said, “I know what you said. What are you _implying_?”

“I suppose that there’s someone else who has captured his attention. Someone he’s spending more time with than his own wife. Someone who is keeping him…distracted.” Her gaze seemed to wander from her father, around the room, until it rested meaningfully on Merlin on the other bench across the aisle.

“I’m not distracted.” Arthur insisted. He stepped forward and put a hand on Uther’s shoulder, trying to get his attention away from Merlin. 

Uther ignored him, eyes flicking between Morgana and Merlin until they widened and he shook off Arthur’s hand. He reached behind him, grasping the journal. He flipped through it, back to the page he’d read aloud a few minutes ago, skimming the words to refresh them in his mind. 

“You can’t listen to Morgana.” Arthur said, grasping for the journal. Uther pulled it away before Arthur could even touch it. He crushed the book in a clenched fist, silently measuring Arthur for a full nerve-wracking minute. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, father, I’m sure it’s ridiculous.” Arthur hated that his voice was weaker than it had been a moment ago, all his resolve withering under his fathers intense scrutiny. Uther didn’t respond, just studying him, features slowly pinching into disdain. 

Arthur couldn't take it any longer. His eyes dropped to the floor. There was no point in denying it any more. His father knew the truth. The four of them were going to be hanged before the day’s end. 

 

“The demon.” Uther breathed, amazement coloring his tone as he looked at Merlin. 

Merlin didn’t have a chance to respond. The noise of the townspeople behind him crashed like a wave over their little trial, deafening and steadfast even as Aredian tried to calm it.  Merlin couldn’t even hear him shouting for them to clear the church until nearly an hour later when they had managed to coax everyone out. 

Gwen and Lance were escorted to the jail to be dealt with later, leaving only Aredian, Uther, and Arthur with him. Morgana had attempted to stay, but Uther caught one look at her smirk and ordered her to leave. 

“Stand up.” Uther snapped. 

Merlin rose on unsteady feet and stepped up to where Gwen and so many others faced their fate. He kept his gaze lowered, watching Uther’s chest as the man spoke. 

“Do you have a relationship with my son?” 

It hadn’t been the question Merlin was expecting but he supposes he should’ve been prepared for it anyway. He snuck a peak at Arthur’s face, twisted in anguish but offering no guidance. There was no point in lying anymore. Uther had everything figured out. He didn’t even need Merlin’s confession, but he was intent on dragging it out of him anyway. 

“Yes.”

“You’re the demon he wrote of?”

“I believe so.” 

“You’re a sorcerer.” It wasn’t a question so Merlin stayed silent. “You’ve corrupted my son, bewitched him into committing this perversion.” 

“No!” Merlin’s gaze flew to Arthur. He couldn’t have him believing it was all a lie. All it would take was a seed of doubt planted by his father for Arthur to question everything they had. He couldn’t let that happen. “I would never use magic against Arthur.” 

Uther’s eyes widened as he took in Merlin’s frantic insistence, the way Merlin’s eyes burned into Arthur, Arthur’s averted gaze. “You love him, don't you?”

Arthur closed his eyes, and that was all the answer Uther needed. “It’s worse than I thought.” 

“I hereby sentence you to death for your crimes against god. Your impurities will be purged by fire the second the pyre is finished being assembled.” 

“Burned at the stake?” Aredian asked, anticipation curling around the words, at the same time Arthur shouted, “Father, you can’t!”

“Silence!” Uther boomed, voice echoing off the walls and slamming back into them. He stormed toward the antechamber, ordering the few members of the watch who had remained to restrain Merlin and put him in a cell. He paused in the door to the antechamber and nearly growled, “Another word from you, Arthur, and you’ll join him.” 

Arthur nearly argued, would’ve if Merlin hadn’t darted forward and grabbed him. Merlin murmured, “Arthur please, don’t.”

“We have to-He can’t-There must be something-” Arthur shook with rage, so lost he couldn’t even finish a thought. He ripped his gaze from the closed door Uther had disappeared through and clutched Merlin’s arms hard. “Merlin…”

Merlin turned to stone as he watched resignation seep into Arthur’s eyes. The truth was out, the whole truth about everyone. There was nothing left to fight for. There was no way out of this. He couldn’t argue, Uther wouldn’t listen to reason. He couldn’t run, all the suspicion would fall on Gaius for harboring a sorcerer. Even that ridiculous plan he and Arthur had cooked up the day before was useless now that Merlin couldn’t sneak away and disguise himself. 

“We’ll get through this together.” Merlin promised, even though he knew it was a lie. “We’ll find a way.”

Arthur smashed their lips together for just a second before Merlin was tugged away.

Merlin didn’t fight as he was dragged away. He wouldn’t do anything that would drive Arthur to antagonize his father. He had nothing left to lose now, but he needed Arthur to stay safe more than anything else.

They left him alone once the cell door was shut and locked. Footsteps and all other sounds of life besides his own breathing receding into nothing. There were others locked up in the jail, he knew, but he had been shut into a dim cell in the basement of the jailhouse. They must’ve thought it was a more fitting place for a sorcerer than the more public cells but Merlin couldn’t help think this small room was chosen specifically for him after his confrontation with Uther just minutes ago. 

He had only ever seen one person burnt at the stake in his whole life, an old man in his village. He was a young boy when it happened, but he remembered peering out from behind his mother’s skirts. The smell of burning flesh hung in the air and smothered everything. He remembered the way the onlookers wretched and tried to keep from being sick. But Merlin didn’t notice the smell, not like the others. All of his attention was turned toward the man being swallowed whole by the flames. The sounds of desperate screams that tore roughly from his throat as his head whipped back and forth trying uselessly to free himself. Even with such a distance between them and standing in the shadow of his mother, Merlin saw the skin of his face redden, saw the tears running down his blistering cheeks before they dried in the pressing heat. His mother had scooped him up in her arms and carried him away, tried to comfort him but he had been so numb he barely noticed her.

The memory tormented him now. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing that old man’s face twisted in agony, couldn’t keep them open without seeing the dingy walls of his cell. There was no escape. In a few hours, when the pyre was lit and the smell of melting skin was suffocating and screams echoed through the town, his mother wouldn’t sweep him up in her arms. He was going to die. He was going to be burnt alive and maybe he deserved it for everything he’d done.

It would be so easy to escape now, use magic to free himself. No one would be strong enough to stop him from just walking away, finding another town, starting another life. But maybe this is what he needed, maybe being cleansed by fire is what it would take to find peace in the afterlife. No, he had to hold on to what Arthur said, what he’d whispered and kissed into his skin. He’s not a monster. If he couldn’t trust in himself, he could trust in Arthur. 

He didn’t want to die this way. He could not let the people he cared about, the people who loved him, watch him break down and melt away, but all that was left for him to do was leave. Leave the town in the height of a panic, leave knowing suspicion would fall on Gaius and Arthur for their association with him, leave the witches to destroy Camelot with its own fear.

Yet, he still could not stay. Even if he did, he had no way to stop Uther or the witches. The only plan he had ever been able to devise was useless now that he’d gotten himself captured. Disguising himself as a stranger to take the blame for all the magical mayhem would never work because the moment they checked his cell they would find it empty and know the stranger was him. But what if it was him?

He was already condemned to die. What more could they do to him? He could follow through with the plan and end the trials and the numerous deaths of innocent people. As far as last acts went, it was a good one. 

The sound of creeping footsteps and cloth scraping against the stone floor distracted him from the sudden elation swelling his chest. It was all fine and good to theorize about self sacrifice, but hearing his doom approach sucked all the certainty from him. He knew he could escape just before he died. It would actually be easier to escape behind the cover of a wall of fire, but there was always the chance he would be too late, or they would catch him escaping and the panic would get out of control at knowing the sorcerer behind all the misdeeds in town was loose once again. 

When the footsteps halted, he was surprised to find Morgana of all people staring at him though the small barred window in the door. 

Merlin shoved to his feet. He could see the smirk curling on her lips in the flickering light of her candle. 

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, voice trembling though the strength of his emotion. He didn’t have much time left. He didn’t have time to pretend he didn’t know she was responsible for every bad thing that had happened, the root of all the evil in Camelot. 

“I had no intention for any of this to happen when I began.” Morgana said, attempting sincerity. 

“And what exactly did you intend when you slaughtered eight people in the woods?”

“It started as a simple ritual. A life for a life. The rest were just collateral damage.” 

“Collateral-” Merlin choked on his own anger. “What ritual could possibly be worth all this?”

“It was worth every one of those lives. I would’ve sacrificed a hundred lives if it means I could bring my mother back. Uther killed her.”

“Your mother was sick.” Merlin said, uncertainty coloring his voice. Arthur had told him about Ygraine once, how she was beautiful and wise and died much too young. He knew better than to pry too deeply with Arthur but after he had returned home, Merlin questioned Gaius and the physician reluctantly told him the story of the Pendragon woman. The intensity in Morgana’s fierce expression made him doubt everything he’d been told at least until she started to yell. 

“Uther stole her from me! Dragged her away from her home and her children to this godforsaken land.” Morgana gripped one of the bars in the door and pressed her face closer as she spoke hurriedly. “He’s the reason she got sick! All I ever wanted was to bring her back-”

“But necromancy-”

She shoved on, ignoring his interruption. “And Uther couldn’t even let me have that. He had his men ruin the ritual before it could be completed. Half the watch showed up. Arthur. _You_.”

“So you started accusing people of witchcraft? Sending innocent people to hang? That’s not retribution against Uther.” 

Her raged slipped away, the claw crushing the bar on his door loosened, and her mouth curved into smirk that was so familiar and so Morgana that his grief made him ache. The woman he thought he knew, the sharp-witted fair woman that Arthur once admitted begrudging adoration for, was gone. Maybe she had never been there at all. Either way, the person standing before him was a stranger, a cold, smug, hateful stranger. “Uther has done more than rob me of a mother. My whole life he preached against the dangers of magic. He made me believe I was a devil. You have no idea what it was like. A child believing that they have no soul, that if my father ever learned of my power he would kill me without a second thought.”

“That is-”

“So I made him pay. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already taken my revenge. He still believes he is the savior of his people, ridding his town of sorcerers.” Morgana stepped back, her hand slipping away from the bar. “But imagine how much it will hurt him when he discovers that his justice, the worship of his precious God killed all those innocent subjects. I’ve destroyed him from the inside. Now all that’s left is to watch his power, his church, the god that he loved more than his own children, crumble.” 

“Why are you telling me all this?” 

“Because no one else knows what I’ve done. You were the only one to suspect and you were stupid enough to think you could stop me. I suppose I’ve come to tell you were wrong. I’ve poisoned faith itself. You were nothing in comparison and soon you’ll actually be nothing. Nothing but charred bits of bones and ashes in the wind.” 

With one last smirk, she disappeared into the darkness beyond his cell. The clamor of heavy footfalls resumed and the flickering light of lanterns filled more and more of the hall until he saw the shadows of several men on the wall approaching.

 

 _/_ \^ _/_ \

 

Arthur pounded against his door, cursing uselessly. It didn’t budge, fixed firmly in place. Even if it wasn’t, there were two men stationed just outside to keep _him_ firmly fixed in place.  The pyre had been nearly complete when he was escorted from the church. Uther had instructed his guards to keep him out of the way until all that remained was ash.  

“But who would ever think Merlin is a…” Elyan’s voice trailed off in that same amused disbelief. Arthur recognized it as a reflection of his own thoughts that day he witnessed Merlin’s magic in action for the first time and many times since. 

He didn’t respond, just let Elyan come to terms with it on his own. Arthur wondered if he would ever realize that it was more than just an accusation, that it was the truth. He wouldn’t blame him if the reality of it never occurred to the other man because he was right. Who would ever have thought that Merlin is a sorcerer?

“What proof do they have? Why would someone even say that?” 

“It’s my fault.” Arthur dropped his forehead against the smooth wood, allowing his despair to sweep through him for just a moment.

“How could it be your fault?”

“My father wants to hurt him because…” The confession caught in his throat. Elyan was probably the only person left in Camelot who didn’t know about their relationship. It had been torn away from them, hoisted up for everyone to see and to scoff at. A part of him was still clinging to their secret. He wasn’t ready to give up this thing that belonged to just the two of them and cast it into harsh light of those who would judge them. But Elyan would find out the moment he stepped out the door and Arthur knew he couldn’t put the blame onto anyone else for what was happening to Merlin. “Because I love him.” 

“Of course you love him. We all care about him. He might not be part of the watch but he hung around you and Gwaine so much, the rest of us didn’t have a choice but to like him.” Elyan didn’t give him much time to cringe at how willfully blind some people could be. He brushed off that line of thought and went back to “But why would he want to hurt your friend?”

“Because he likes to hurt people. 

“I could give my testimony.” Arthur turned his head to look at Elyan who was pale and shaking and looking only just fit enough to sit up in his cot. 

“You can’t even stand.” Arthur said. His eyes slipped closed as the full gravity of reality pushed to the forefront of his mind before he could fend it off. And as he was forced to continue, he had to imagine the reality that was soon to come. “Even if you could, my father would never listen to you. Even if you told him Morgana was behind it all, even if he actually believed you instead of stringing up too, he would just think that Merlin corrupted her. He won’t rest until Merlin is dead. Because of me. He’s going to burn.”

“You can’t give up now.” Elyan said and Arthur vaguely heard him shuffling around. A small voice in the back of his mind that sounded painfully like Merlin told him he should stop Elyan from moving around too much, that he would aggravate his injuries, but he couldn’t be bothered. What did it matter if Elyan hurt himself? What did it matter if any of them ever hurt themselves again if Merlin wouldn’t be around to bandage them up?

“Merlin would’ve wanted-” Elyan started gently. Arthur shoved away from the door and wheeled on Elyan.

“Merlin would’ve wanted-” He shouted, tumbling over the words as he realized the implications. “He _wants_ us to stop killing each other whenever someone shouts ‘witch’.”

“Well, someone has shouted witch and now they’re going to kill Merlin.” Elyan said. Clutching the cot tightly on either side of him, he struggled to his feet and met Arthur’s gaze again. His arms were shaking by his sides but the look he gave Arthur was steady. “What are we going to do about it?”

 

 

It took four guards to lead Merlin from his basement cell to the expansive area behind the jail even though he didn’t fight. Most of the town, everyone with a strong enough stomach, was gathered before the gallows in an assemblage that had become far too familiar in the last week. 

The pyre they had built for him was smaller than he would’ve imagined, much smaller than the one he’d seen as a child. That one had been a mountain of wood casting an intimidating shadow in the afternoon light. Merlin’s pyre, though, was meager, little more than a pile of firewood. It wouldn’t produce a flame high enough to cover an escape attempt. It wouldn’t burn hot enough to kill him quickly either. 

He cast his eyes over the crowd as his guards strapped him to the stake. His eyes found Uther easily. The man’s expression was solemn but not nearly grave enough for the purpose of that billowing torch he held. For a moment Merlin wondered if he’d intentionally made the pyre small. If he wanted this to be more than cleansing a dark soul and an execution. Merlin didn’t have much hope left and he certainly didn’t have enough faith in Uther to believe it was anything other than it was. Torture. 

“There is a man who has yet to give his testimony regarding the deaths of the hunting party.” Gaius said, pushing forward through the crowd. 

“That testimony has no relevance in this trial.” Uther waved him off. The condescending motion paused and Uther’s sharp eyes snapped back to the physician. “Unless you believe the boy was somehow involved.”

“Not involved, per say, but there is a need for some knowledge to come to light before this sentence is carried out.” Gaius said. 

Uther considered him for a long moment in silence. Merlin wished Gaius wouldn’t have said anything. There was only a small chance that Elyan’s testimony could change the proceedings. Merlin was forced to think only of Gaius by the much larger certainty that nothing anyone said could save him now. If Gaius fought too adamantly to save a sorcerer he would only garner more suspicion for himself.

“Send for Elyan Smith. We will hear his testimony if he chooses to give it, but I will tolerate no more than a small delay in this execution. Your man has ten minutes before I light this pyre myself.” 

Gaius nodded hurriedly, murmuring his gratitude before he pushed toward the back of the crowd, casting Merlin a single look brimming with fear and determination. He stumbled but Percival righted him before he could fall. The two of them continued on, faster now for Percival’s strength keeping Gaius steady and parting the reluctant mob.

Merlin watched them until they disappeared around the edge of the jail, would’ve kept watching if Uther hadn’t spoken and stolen his attention. “Have you any last words?” 

Merlin’s gaze was pulled away from Uther and onto Aredian who stepped forward, his own torch in hand. They had no intention of waiting for anything. Barely a minute had passed. It was clear, just as he had suspected, nothing Elyan had to say would change their minds or the verdict.

“Yes, I…I wish to confess my sins.” Merlin said. He gathered every bit of courage he could find within himself. It was easier than he imagined it would be. Knowing he would burn no matter what he said made it easier to say the lie that might save these people. “I, and only I, am a sorcerer. I am responsible for the deaths of the men in the hunting party. I started the fire in the woods and the one in town. I corrupted Arthur to love me and Lancelot and Guinevere to love each other. I twisted their minds with magic so they would sin. I coerced all those accused of witchcraft to turn from the lord and embrace the devil as our true god.”

The shock went through the crowd as gasps and clutching chests in horror. It was the most blatant admission of guilt anyone had given in a trial and even though it was a lie, he could see it begin to be accepted as the truth. 

He found Morgana in the crowd. She was watching him with carefully concealed curiosity which soured to realization as Uther spoke up. “The corruption dies with you.” 

Merlin held her gaze as she realized just what he’d done. With any hope, Merlin’s single confession would end the suspicion and the trials would stop. Her whole body tensed even as her face remained passive. He wouldn’t have seen the anger if he hadn’t been looking for it, but it was there. Her revenge scheme had come to an end and there was nothing she could say in that moment that would make Uther want to continue the trials without incriminating herself. 

Aredian approached the pyre, and Merlin dragged his attention away from Morgana. He didn’t want to spend the last moments of his life thinking about her. He turned his gaze to the clear sky, appreciating the biting breeze that chilled his skin. In a moment all he would have is heat. He spared a thought for all the people he never got to say goodbye to. His friends. Gaius. His mother. Arthur. 

The torch meet straw, and fire began to seep into the cracks between the logs under his feet. It caught his eye and held it, captivating as it poured through the pile. There were faint sounds of shouting but he could barely hear them over the quiet crackle of the budding fire.

He wanted to close his eyes and hold onto a sweet memory, one that could give him strength carry him through his pain, but he couldn’t look away. The fire was licking at his toes now, baking them in their boots. There could be no escape into his mind. He was trapped here choking on his own fear. And he was starting to sweat.

 

Getting out of the house was easier than it should’ve been. Arthur was torn between relief that he could fight off the men of the Watch so easily and concern that the men under his command were so easily bested. It was all too easy to knock them out as they chatted about the events of the morning with their backs turned. 

Elyan was trying his best to keep up. They had only made it down the road before he was panting and shaking so hard Arthur was sure he would fall over. 

“Stop.” Arthur begrudgingly grabbed his arm to bring him to a halt. “You’re no good to me unconscious. We can stop for a minute until you catch your breath.”

He stooped over, hands on his knees to catch his rasping breath. Arthur glance around the deserted houses and tried to estimate how much longer it would take to reach the jailhouse at this pace. He tried not to think about Merlin fastened to the stake, every citizen of Camelot watching eagerly for the flames to reach him.

“Come on.” Arthur said, dragging Elyan upright by the arm. He nodded, got his feet under himself and they took a few rushed steps forward. Elyan nearly toppled over when the woman appeared in their path. 

“Morgause.” Arthur didn’t like the way her narrowed eyes focused dangerously on Elyan. He put himself between the two but Morgause never shifted her gaze. “What are you doing here?”

She spared him only a brief glance, eye flashing gold and he was thrown through the air. He slammed against the dirt, frozen earth unforgiving as he smacked his head against the road. He lay, stomach rolling with nausea, teetering on the edge of consciousness. He could just see two figures in the distance rushing toward them, one hulking, the other hunched. He watched uselessly as Morgause hissed a spell with a raised hand. Elyan gasped and scrabbled for breath, her hand tightening its grasp on empty air. 

Arthur’s vision swam, his whole world spinning for a horrible sickening moment. He struggled to roll onto his stomach, and when he finally managed it, he had to squeeze his eyes closed to stop his head from reeling. With tremendous effort, he managed to get his hands and knees under himself. 

The sound of a scuffle ahead of him, dragged him back into motion. He staggered to his feet in time to see Percival throw himself at Morgause and Gaius, who was tottering along slower but with just as much determination, check on Elyan sprawled out on the ground. 

The sorceress was dealt with quickly, one well struck blow sent her to the ground unmoving. Elyan stirred under Gaius’s careful attention.

“It’s not over yet, is it?” Arthur asked, voice catching as he saw Percival’s grave expression. 

“The judge has permitted Elyan’s testimony before Merlin’s sentence is carried out, but he has given us a very strict deadline, and I am not confident he has the patience wait for us to return.” Gaius said, propping Elyan up against his arm. He tried to stand and stumbled, but Percival darted over and held him up right. 

“We don’t have much time.” Percival said as he looked among the others, saying more with his gaze than his words. 

“I’m alright.” Elyan said, looking back to Gaius. 

“Go!” Gaius insisted, tottering to his feet. 

The pair of them took off as fast as they could, Percival supporting most of Elyan’s weight as they jogged. 

“You too.” Gaius said, giving Arthur’s arm a shove in the right direction. “I’ll be along as fast as I can.” 

Arthur felt like he should protest, at least help the old man along for propriety’s sake, but Merlin was the only thing in his mind and getting to him as fast as he could. With one last nod to Gaius, he took off running as fast as his pounding head would allow. He caught up with Percival and Elyan easily and ran along side them the short distance to the center of town.  

He saw the wisp of smoke trailing into the sky before he saw the flickering glow of the fire itself as they rounded the edge of the jailhouse. The people gathered around the pyre blurred from familiar faces he’d known for years into a single mass of obstacles standing between him and Merlin. 

Arthur couldn’t see much from his distance but he could see the fire had engulfed the entire base of the platform, tickling threateningly at Merlin’s ankles. His pace faltered before he gathered himself up again and ran.  

This man should not die, his mind raced along this single track. His body burned with it but it wasn’t a fire of rage it was fear. This was his faith, his law, his father that he’d trusted boundlessly and he was seeing them all for the first time with completely clear eyes. This man did not deserve to die. None of them did. But here was the law he’d always held in the highest regard betraying them. Damning the innocent and leaving the rest, the idle spectators, to forget them.

He heard himself shouting but the words were lost to him. All that mattered was getting to Merlin before the fire did.

Uther was the only one that tried to stop him as he threw himself through the crowd toward the pyre. He grabbed at Arthur’s arms, scrabbling at his coat when he couldn’t get purchase, but Arthur tore away from him. 

He hesitated at the edge of the pyre, heat pressing into him, looking up at Merlin who noticed his approach for the first time. 

“Arthur,” Merlin wheezed before breaking into a fit of coughs as smoke filled his lungs. That was all he needed. Arthur scrambled up the pile of burning wood, hissing and shouting as it singed his skin. 

“What are you doing?” Merlin shouted between coughs. He struggled against his bindings even as Arthur reached him and set to work tearing away the ropes. “You have to…get out of here.”

“Not without you.” Arthur said. He ignored Merlin’s further protests, ignored the pain in his feet as they burned, ignored the bustling crowd as Elyan told them all what he’d seen. His entire world narrowed down to the knots he was wrestling against. 

Finally, _magically_ , they came undone and Arthur threw himself with Merlin in his arms down the slope toward solid, unburnt earth. 

They lay panting in a tangle heap for a long time, struggling to breath the clean icy air. Merlin’s shaking slowly subsided, and Arthur’s bruising grip on him loosened. As the cold breeze dried their sweat and washed away their panic, the weight of what they had just done settled over them, suffocating. There would be hell to pay for this breech of the law.

Arthur turned his attention to the crowd, hearing for the first time what was being shouted. 

Elyan was defending his testimony against Uther, who looked thunderous. Morgana stood close by looking appropriately wounded and indignant. 

“I’ll hear no more of this insult upon my family!” Uther boomed. “Recapture the sorcerer before he escapes and take this man into custody for bearing false witness.”

Arthur struggled upright, bearing his weight painfully on melted soles and blistering skin. The man of the watch charged with recapturing Merlin, Bedwyr, paused, looking between Uther and Arthur, unsure. 

“It is the truth!” Elyan insisted, even as he was restrained. His guard tried to pull him away but he fought against him as much as he could. “Morgana Pendragon is responsible for the evil magic in Camelot.” 

Uther raised a hand to dismiss him, but Aredian spoke up suddenly, interest lighting his eyes. “You saw the other witches?”

“All of them. There were-” Elyan said eagerly. 

Morgana rushed forward, abruptly interrupting. She was trying to hold on to her cool indignation but her budding panic rang through clearly in her shaking voice. “I know what you are trying to do.” She pointed an unsteady finger at Aredian and went on, “You want to spread these lies, the word of the devil. I have seen you in the dark scheming with the devil.”

Abrupt silence followed her nearly whispered accusation. Arthur couldn’t help the swelling feeling of hope that rose in his chest. This was it, when they all saw the truth and believed it. No one dared speak, just looked on as she looked around frantically for the fanatical support she had taken advantage of just this morning. He watched it play out on her face, the cold truth finally settling in. She had accused the wrong person. A man in a position of power, a priest no less, and a driving force in the hunt for justice. The people saw it for what it was. A desperate accusation from a desperate woman fighting to keep the suspicion from where it rightly belonged, on her. It was clear this accusation, and likely all the ones before it, was false. 

Arthur was triumphant and sick as he watched his father’s stunned face lock down into an impenetrable mask just before he ordered her arrest. 

“This marks the end of this mess.” Uther said, cold voice sweeping through the crowd as Morgana was dragged away. “Put that fire out. Release Guinevere and Lancelot. The lady’s trial will be handled privately and you…” He turned to Aredian who straightened under his hard gaze. “Will leave immediately before I find her accusation has some merit.”

Aredian shrank back, nodding demurely. 

Uther returned his attention to the waiting crowd, sparing Arthur a single loaded glance before addressing everyone. “The next person to cry witch will be tried themselves. Consider that wisely.”

Arthur sighed his relief and glanced over his shoulder. Merlin collapsed back to the ground, all the tension that had been holding him sitting upright seeping away. A smile curled his lips as he sighed, “It’s over.”

 

It took Merlin four days to recover from his injuries. Well, it took him four hours with the help of his magic, but he decided to lay low for the sake of appearances. He wanted nothing more than to be with Arthur, but he hadn’t come to see him. Merlin was starting to worry that the avoidance was purposeful, but after hearing from Gaius how busy the Watch had been trying to soothe the outrage at the revelation that most of the people executed for witchcraft had been innocent victims his concerns were laid to rest. As sheriff it would fall to Arthur to restore peace to the town and get the Watch back under his control. 

The revelation of Merlin and Arthur’s relationship, and by extension Guinevere and Lancelot’s, had been written off as a rumor, slander from a witch trying to cause as much damage as she could, but a little distance would help more than harm anyone. 

Merlin tried to be patient and understanding, but on the fourth day of being holed up in Gaius’s workshop-and imagining Arthur reclaiming his lost authority, settling disputes, and, at the end of an exhausting day, crawling into bed beside Guinevere-Merlin was sure he would lose his mind. So he slipped out, undetected thanks to an invisibility spell, and finished a project that was long overdue. It was only the work of a single night, though, and come morning, Merlin couldn’t wait another day.

He made the short walk through town to Arthur’s home. Pausing at the door, he raised his hand to knock but faltered, suddenly unsure. Was it a good time? Would Arthur even be home or would he be forced to come face to face with Gwen for the first time since…

The decision was made for him suddenly as the door was yanked open. 

Uther stopped in the entrance, studying Merlin thoroughly in silence. Arthur approached behind him, unaware of Merlin’s presence until he was beside his father. 

“Merlin…”

“Hello,” Merlin said, looking back at Uther and shifting awkwardly. 

“Yes, well.” Uther spoke to Arthur without removing his gaze from Merlin. “I expect an update on the matter in the evening.”

“Of course, Father.” 

That seemed to satisfy him. With a curt nod, Uther breezed past Merlin down the path toward the road.

Arthur invited Merlin into the house with a sweeping gesture and Merlin started inside, but Uther turned back to him suddenly and said, “Young man.” 

“Uh, yes?” Merlin asked, hovering in the doorway. 

“You did a brave thing, taking all the blame onto yourself to free the town from the grip of hysteria. It will not be forgotten.” Even as his words were a praise, Merlin couldn’t ignore the suspicion in his gaze. Uther was willing to accept this warped version of reality for the sake of the town, but Merlin’s confession of love wouldn’t be forgotten.

When Merlin turned back to Arthur, he could see he was stunned. Arthur didn’t tear his eyes away from his father’s retreating back until Merlin closed the door behind him. When he did, he pulled Merlin in for a slow, deep kiss. 

“Are you alright?” Arthur murmured against his lips, when they finally broke apart. 

Merlin nodded, trailing his hands across Arthur’s shoulders. “I’m fine. And as much as I would like this to continue, I have something to show you.”

“Really?” Arthur asked, pulling him in tight for one last kiss before they had to go outside, and keep a respectable distance between themselves. 

Merlin led him down the road, silence settling easily between them. They were nearly there and Merlin was brimming with excitement and nerves. He was one step away from blurting it out and ruining the whole surprise, so instead he asked, “What does your father need an update about?”

“Hm? Oh.” Arthur grimaced. “It seems Morgana has disappeared. Mordred and Morgause as well.” 

“Do you think they’ll be back?” 

“No, most likely not. I believe they left the colony altogether. There’s no point in staying when they can start over somewhere new.” 

Merlin nodded, concerns about impending revenge quelled for the time being. They had nearly reached the end of the narrow dirt road and Arthur was frowning at the little leaning house up ahead he’d spent so much time trying to repair. Merlin stayed quiet and let him wonder as he pulled him through the door. 

Arthur arched a brow at the fact that there was even a door at all and when he stepped inside more fully, both brows disappeared into his hairline. 

He was quiet for a long time, just looking around, taking it all in and Merlin was starting to get nervous. “I finished the job for you. I thought it would be nice. If you don’t like it, I can undo it or change it or…”

“No. No, it’s…” Arthur said, his gaze drifting . “It’s just like my mother described.”

Merlin smiled, sighing a chuckle in his relief. “Good. I’m glad you like it. I’m sure you and…I’m sure you and Gwen will be happy here.”

Arthur’s attention snapped back to him. He weighed Merlin with a look not unlike the one Uther had leveled him with only an hour ago. 

Arthur pulled him into a tight embrace, burying his face in Merlin’s neck as he shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to live here, but you and I.”

“We can’t do that.” Merlin murmured, brushing his fingers through Arthur’s hair as he held him.

“I know, but I want it to be yours.” Arthur said, pressing his lips gingerly against Merlin’s neck. Merlin closed his eyes and held on tighter, feeling Arthur’s words against his skin. “I’m sorry we can’t be together the way we want.”

Merlin looked around the empty house that was now his. No matter how much he filled it, it would alway be empty without Arthur. Merlin’s mouth twisted bitterly into a smile, “Maybe in another life.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next work in this series


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